Life in Sunnyhell
by Niamh O'Leary
Summary: Buffy writes a book about being the Slayer, and meets some interesting people in Flourish and Blotts. This story is Buffy/Snape.
1. Prologue

Life in Sunnyhell.

By Niamh O'Leary and Rose Williams.

Rated PG-13

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling et al. Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon et al.

Authors' Notes: The next chapter of Familiar Ashes is coming. Reviews on this are always welcome. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows.

It will be Buffy/Severus.

Starts about a year and half after the destruction of Sunnydale, California. Early in Harry's fifth year (Order of the Phoenix will not be affected.)

**Prologue:**

Buffy unbuckled her seat belt and hurried to the toilet, leaving her laptop on her seat. As soon as she had disappeared down the plane's aisle, Giles turned to Willow and Dawn.

"Did you do the spell?" he asked.

Willow grinned, shaking her head. "I just added a laxative to her 'nutritionally balanced airline meal'. I figured she might have noticed magic."

Dawn, Giles and Xander looked at Willow with various expressions of shock and dismay.

"That's not very… sporting," Giles spluttered.

"Can I just be the first one to say 'ew'?"

"You're okay with me calling on possibly very dark magic, but it's putting a simple pharmaceutical into somebody's food that turns me into the Wicked Witch of the West?"

Dawn shrugged, "We never claimed it made sense."

She leant over the seat in front of her and picked the laptop up. She opened it carefully and ran her fingers lovingly over the keys.

"Oh, I have missed you, sister's diary. All those years were separated by the padlock she placed between us. Finally we are reunited."

"Just read it, Dawnie," Willow said.

Dawn looked to see them all staring at her, with barely contained laughter, and blushed. She woke the computer up and was asked for the password.

"Ah, much easier than picking locks," Dawn said, happily.

She typed in a quick series of words; Angel, Mr Gordo, Buffy1430, etc. Eventually she discovered 'cheeseguy,' and giggled.

"She's getting subtler in her old age," Dawn said. "But she'd better off with something random."

Xander turned to Willow. "We blame you," he said. "You're the one who taught her how to hack into the NSA mainframe."

"The NSA is hardly as corrupting as Star Trek."

"What was she writing?" Giles asked, tired with the banter.

Dawn was reading so quickly she looked cross eyed.

"It's good. She writing about Sunnydale, you know, all the Slayer stuff we did, well you guys did, and how to recognise evil substitute teachers. Someone pinch me, I think Buffy's written a book. It's like we've gone through a wormhole. We're in a different Universe."

Willow pointed an accusatory finger at Xander.

"Didn't I say that Star Trek was a bad influence."

"That wasn't Star Trek, that was Farscape," Xander said. "Okay, so maybe that isn't better. But it did have a completely different, you don't want to know."

"Please!" Giles said. "Dawn, what has Buffy written?"

"It's a book. Willow, do you have a CD I can burn?"

"Burn?" Giles asked, obviously alarmed.

"Copy," Dawn translated. "It's not a big file yet, so it shouldn't take long."

Willow hand Dawn a CD case. Dawn quickly put it in and dragged the file across to copy. The dialogue box popped up with the 'about 10 seconds' message and Dawn looked anxiously down the aisle.

The computer finished copying, and Dawn took the CD out, and closed the laptop with another loving caress.

"You and I will have some time alone later," she told it.

Xander rolled his eyes. Dawn ignored him regally and returned the computer to Buffy's seat just before the toilet door opened again.

She hastily handed the CD back to Willow, who returned to its case in her bag.

"We've got our excuses?" Willow asked. She looked over the seat quickly for a last check before Buffy made it back.

Buffy returned to find everyone looking conspicuously innocent. She knew that asking would do no good, so she ignored them and sat down again. She took out her laptop, opened it, and entered the password again. The others looked on surreptitiously.

Willow and Dawn got out their own computers and had a whispered conversation about whether to copy it again or simply load it onto their own computers. Eventually they decided on one disk copy. Once they had copied it, Dawn passed the CD to Giles, who loaded with remarkable competence onto his own laptop. Xander decided to read over Willow's shoulder, but she quickly got tired of his reading so slowly and banished him to his own computer.

They each had carefully constructed explanations for what they were 'really' doing, except Giles, who just needed to take off his glasses and begin to clean them for Buffy to tune out. If that didn't work, he could quickly revert to 'interesting' and other polysyllables. Buffy, though, just continued typing, without a thought for her similarly engrossed friends.

When the plane touched down and they finally disembarked, Buffy realised that something strange was going on. Dawn was supporting Willow out of the plane and towards English customs.

"It's okay," Dawn was murmuring. "It was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then. No one blames you."

"But she did, she did!"

"What's wrong, Will?" Buffy asked. It looked as if Willow had been crying.

Dawn shook her head at Buffy. But Buffy was beginning to get quite worried. Willow needed people to talk when she cried. Willow managed a watery smiled for her friend.

"I'm okay, really, Buffy," she said. "I've just done some stupid things, is all."

Buffy pulled Willow into a half hug. "We all have," she said. Willow nodded sadly.

Willow brushed off Buffy's concerns as well as she could, but Buffy's description of how she had felt in her last fight with Angel had moved Willow more than she had ever imagined.

Buffy took responsibility for collecting the several large trunks of weapons that they invariably took with them. They were too large for the others to carry, Buffy, however liked them because they were too big and solid for anyone to steal or steal from.

"Are you okay, Willow?" Xander asked.

Willow nodded. "It was the part about Angel, you know, after he came back from Hell, and she was looking after him."

Dawn nodded; she could remember Buffy raging at nothing for weeks. Giles looked equally thoughtful.

Xander however, looked slightly annoyed. "I'm not up to that bit yet, you all read faster than me. Now it's spoilt."

Dawn looked at Xander a moment in shock. She turned back to Willow.

Willow patted Xander on the arm. "I think I speak for both Dawn and Giles when I remind you that _you were there_!"

Xander coloured slightly. "That's not what I meant," started to say, but gave up at their sceptical looks. "But still, it was very good. Obviously the Cs and Bs Buffy got for English hid the fact that she can actually write."

"Remember Emily Dickens?" Willow said to Giles, giggling slightly.

Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them, clearing his throat in warning. Buffy had collected their rather large pile of luggage and returned to where they were standing.

"Dawn!" Buffy said.

"I didn't do it," Dawn said.

"But who else has an unnatural attraction to my diary?"

"Can I take the fifth on that?"

"We're in England, not America," Buffy said. "The fifth doesn't work here, so I'm going to assume you meant yes. You all read it?"

They nodded. Willow started babbling, genuinely distressed.

"I'm really sorry, Buffy, but we were all curious. And Dawn said that it was really good. And it is good, and I never realised all that stuff about Angel, and I'm really sorry. Also, I never told Xander that, so you can't blame me. And you're my best friend, I don't want to loose you, I'd never do anything to hurt you."

Buffy pulled Willow into a hug, and turned to glare at the others.

Xander raised an eyebrow at Dawn.

"Does anyone else wish they had the gift of babbling? And was that two sentences, or three?" he added to Giles.

"Four," Giles said. "Although I'm sure she didn't breathe."

"You really think it was good?" Buffy asked, looking at all of them over Willow's shoulder. "And you weren't offended by anything I wrote?"

"Not at all," Xander said. "I get to be in the book."

"Well, you have no understanding of the quality and workmanship involved in making a good tweed suit, but as you are from Southern California, your ignorance can be excused."

"So it was good?" Buffy insisted. "My first therapist recommended writing everything down, but he didn't like the vampire parts much. And I lost all my Slayer diaries, we'll need those to help the newbies."

"It's really good, Buffy," Willow assured, pulling out of the hug gently to look her friends in the eyes. "And I had some thoughts about it."

"So did I," Giles said. "And to butt in, my involved a publishing house and an inordinately large amount of money."


	2. Chapter One

Life in Sunnyhell.

Disclaimers, etc see part one.

Authors' Notes: Still working on everything. But that includes real life (exams, exams, killer rabbits, enchanters named Tim, the usual.)

Set almost a year after the Prologue.

Harry is going into Seventh Year. The Hellmouth was closed a little over two years ago.

**Chapter One:**

Harry paused as they reached the crowds outside Flourish and Blotts. They were a crowd in themselves; him, four of the Weasleys, the Grangers and several Aurors there for Harry's protection. Including Tonks, who had become a large burley man for the day, although Harry didn't want to think about what that involved. She looked like one of the characters from Dudley's comic books. Although he was sure she couldn't also make metal claws shoot out of her hands. Remus didn't seem to be too perturbed. In fact he was chatting quite amiably with the new man, perhaps it was a shape shifter thing, Harry thought, but quickly repressed that line of inquiry.

There were posters and ropes, as there had been when Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books. The largest poster was hung up above the door, showing a smiling witch in green robes. Hermione clutched Harry's arm when she saw.

"I didn't know she was going to be here today," she said breathlessly. "I might actually get to meet her.

"Who is she?" Ron asked.

"Really Ron. Harry has an excuse; he's been in the Muggle world all summer. There have been reviews of her book almost every week. The Sunday Prophet ran a spread on her just last week.

Ron shrugged. "You know I only check the Prophet for the Cannon's score, and to see if a freak bludger accident has killed Krum.

"You asked for his autograph!" Hermione snapped. "You keep it in the shoebox under your bed with your teddy bear!

Ron turned beet red, it clashed rather horribly with his hair. "That's private," he hissed.

_Hem, hem_, Harry said. His friends turned sharply. Even an entire year without Umbridge hadn't lessened the automatic reflex.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But you could at least tell me who she is.

Hermione coloured slightly.

"She's written a book," she said. "Her name's Buffy Summers. And the book is a semibiographical story about her life in Sunnydale.

"Sunnydale?" Ron echoed. Harry thought the name sounded familiar.

"The Hellmouth? La Bocca del Inferno? It collapsed two years ago last May. You must remember: it's only the biggest supernatural event in the last thousand years.

"I read about that," Harry said, slowly.

"Of course, it's not entirely true. Truer than the Muggles think, but she puts herself forward as the Vampire Slayer, and there's only been one of them for at least four thousand years, and Miss Summers get very upset if anyone suggests she's older than 25.

Harry looked at the milling people and the flustered employees. It was very much like second year, except that there were more Wizards in the crowd, and Miss Summers didn't seem to be so enamoured of the spotlight.

"Are they really all here to see her?" he asked.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"We should get in line," she said. "It'll only get longer at lunch time. Logan," she called at Tonks, "we can line up right?

The tall, dark haired man nodded solemnly. Remus punched Ôhim' lightly on the arm. They each took a copy of the book as they took a place in the queue. Ron was surprised to see Hermione pick one up too.

"I thought you said it wasn't true.

"I said she couldn't possible be the Slayer. But she can write, and the demon descriptions are very good, and don't rely on obtuse terminology. Not many people who have seen a She-Mantis, and believe that they saw it, are able to give you a reasonable description.

Ron promptly shut up. The queue moved quite slowly, snaking through the store. Harry kept half an ear on Hermione and Ron's discussion, which seemed to consist of Hermione complaining that Ron hadn't completed the study questions she had sent him and Ron responding in grunts as he tried to catch a better look at the blonde at the front of the queue.

They collected their schoolbooks as they passed them in the queue; Advanced Book of Spells, volume one; Potions Theory and its Practical Applications; Further Changes in Transfiguration; Defence Against Darkness; and Helios Herbs. One of the shopkeepers had just been asked for a copy of the Monster Book of Monsters. Harry was very glad for unbreakable charm on the belt around his copy.

On the trek to get their copies of their Herbology books, Harry spied Snape, hunting through the shelves at the back of the section. Quickly hushing Hermione and Ron, he drew his cloak closer to avoid detection and therefore any unnecessary contact with the Potions master. It had the added advantage of obscuring Harry from the Press, particularly Rita Skeeter's less attractive replacements.

As the people in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione left with their signed books, Harry came face to face with the smiling young woman from the inside dust jacket of the book itself.

"Hi, Harry," she said. "I've heard about you.

Harry blushed.

"Don't worry. The police and the press give up persecuting you after a while. You just have to save their lives a few times and they'll leave you alone.

"I don't think so," Harry said, eyeing the reporters warily.

Buffy chuckled. But then one of the photographers spied Harry's scar.

"That's Harry Potter!" he cried. "Harry, Harry, can we get a photo of you with the Slayer?

Buffy scowled at the man. Harry glanced at him and thought he should get a voodoo doll; he was sure it was the same reporter as second year Ð and hoped that this didn't mean that he would have to fight a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets again. Buffy caught Harry's eye and winked before changing tactics. Harry watched in amazement as Buffy turned and smiled sweetly at the photographer, her entire demeanour changing from one of brisk competence to a combination of Californian cheerleader and a seductress. Harry idly wondered if she had any Veela blood as the poor man blushed, preened and stammered in turn. Buffy bent down slightly to whisper something in his ear (the photographer was quite a bit shorter than the high-heeled Buffy). The way in which the man turned and left, whistling a jaunty little tune, seeming to have forgotten all about Harry and the big photo opportunity.

Harry turned away from the door to look quizzically at Buffy, who had returned to her former place, shrugging off the beguiling persona. Buffy smiled at him.

"Compliment the most pronounced feature a person," Buffy stated, "I am afraid I can't recommend that method for you for male reporters, unless they're gay, but if you do it successfully I am pretty sure your media troubles are over. I really wish someone had taught me how to pull it off when I was your age; then I might not have been wanted in relation to murder. But we all live and learn.

"Pity it won't work on You-Know-Who," Harry grumbled

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "He's your Big Bad right? He's the one who has a whole Evil World Domination trip going on? At least you don't have to deal with an arch enemy suffering from rampant apocaliamania.

Harry rubbed at his forehead. "I don't mean to sound utterly stupid but could you please explain that last phrase, I don't believe I have ever heard it before in my life.

Buffy laughed softly. "That's probably because I made it up. It means obsessed with bringing about apocalypses, or whatever the plural is. Unfortunately I have had to deal with a few of those in my time. Anyway, I hear you're meant to be the big saviour one of these days. Marching off to defeat Moldywarts in a blaze of glory. Making the wizarding world safe for decent Wizards and witches once more." Buffy paused, peering intently at Harry. "How's that working for you?

Harry groaned. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that it actually has to happen, or all the expectation and hype. I hadn't thought it could get worse after the whole ÔBoy-who-Lived' thing, but being the ÔBoy-who-Lived-and-has-to-Save-us-Again' is even worse.

Buffy smiled warmly at him. "Don't let it get you down, just concentrate on getting through one day at a time, and making sure you're as prepared as you can possibly be, and life will be a little easier.

"I would advise you not to waste your time giving Mr. Potter the benefit of your dubious wisdom," Snape said from behind Harry, appearing from behind a shelf of books. "Mr. Potter has a distance aversion to study, and has only survived his education thus far through sheer dumb luck. I am eagerly anticipating his imminent fall from grace; it even makes-up somewhat for having to put up with his presence in my class this year.

Harry turned pale. It was bad enough having to put up with Snape through the school year, but having him show up and insult him in a very public place was worse. Harry was only glad for the fact that Buffy had already dispatched with the reporter.

"I don't think you really have a part in this conversation, Professor Snape," Buffy replied coldly. "How many apocaliamaniacs or Dark Wizards have you battled in last few years? Or do you prefer to watch the teenagers do all the sweaty work instead? Because, if that's the case, can I just say Ôick.

Snape blinked. Buffy's retort had been delivered in a quick, bright voice. Harry didn't think anyone had ever left Snape retort-less. He decided to concentrate on that good thought rather than the nauseating images that the speech had left him with. Snape seemed to have the same reaction; he glared at Buffy and turned in an abrupt swirl of dark robes.

"I will see you class, Potter," Snape sneered. "I look forward to it.

He stalked away, a path rapidly forming through the crowds around the sweep of his cloak.

Harry turned back to Buffy in awe.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" he asked, breathlessly. "Reducing Snape to silence seems a much more useful skill than Transfiguration.

Buffy smiled. "I'm not really sure it's something you can teach. Along with shopping, it really the only inherent skill I have. My sister, on the other hand, can turn any word into a seven-syllable whine. There's still quite a line behind you, but why don't you come round the back and find me afterwards. We can chat some more.

Harry nodded and smiled in agreement. Buffy replaced her expression with the generally welcoming smile that worked for everyone and turned to Harry's friends.

Hermione was staring at Buffy with a mixture of admiration and suspicion. Ron however, was about one step away from drooling and ignoring the Hermione's absentminded jabs in his ribs. Buffy grinned at their familiar behaviour; so much like Xander and Willow.

The two men standing behind them seemed similarly amused. The larger one looked suspiciously like an X-man, and Buffy knew enough about the Wizarding world to suspect that it was a disguise.

"You're looking good today, Logan," she said. "I assume you're usually female?

ÔLogan' blushed. Buffy grinned.

"Guys just wouldn't get it," she said. "What name do you want in the book?

"Logan will do fine," Tonks said. "I had better find the kids. They've been on their won for more than sixty seconds. Who knows what could have happened?

Tonks took her book with a flirtatious grin at Buffy. Buffy smiled back before turning to Lupin and offering him her hand. He shook it gently. Buffy cocked her head slightly.

"How long since it happened?" she asked.

Lupin stepped back half a step, both suspicious and curious, looking at her as if she were a particularly dangerous, but fascinating creature. Like one of Hagrid's for instance.

When he didn't say anything, Buffy chuckled lightly.

"Is it a werewolf thing, or are you channelling Oz? No, wait, he was like that before he got bit.

Lupin relaxed slightly, she was showing no _overt_ sings of hostility. But she was also talking the way many people did when they had no idea what to do.

"Was it an actual furry wolf," she continued, "or another teething cousin?

"As intriguing as I may find the story behind the latter part of that query, I must admit that it was a Ôfurry' wolf.

"Ouch!" Buffy exclaimed, wincing in sympathy. "Oz didn't ever scar.

Lupin didn't have anything to add to that comment, so simply handed his book over to be signed. Buffy smiled sweetly at him, and the grin deepened only slightly when he told her his name.

Before she handed the book back she took a business card out of a pocket in her robes.

"I know werewolves often get a rough deal in this world. But if you've got the skills, these people will probably have something to do.

Lupin glanced at the card. "Watchers' Council" was printed heavily across the middle of the card, and the top corners contained icons; the left a Christian Cross with a pointy end and the right a Wicca pentagram. Neither symbol gave him particular comfort, but the name rang a bell with him.

He recognised it in a flash; the Watchers' Council was a group of Muggle men and women who trained and protected the Slayer line. But Hermione had been perfectly reasonable in saying the Slayer couldn't exist. Most Wizards believed that the Watchers' Council was pretty much a group of squibs who liked to have some form of power in at least the Muggle world.

Lupin slipped the card carefully into his wallet. Buffy handed his now-signed book back to him and he accepted it with a solemn nod, and a half smile.

He would most certainly investigate the job opportunities open at the Watchers' Council, even if he expected no more than a wispy failed Wizard with a superiority complex.

Remus joined the others as they collected their other books for the school year and generally perused the bookshop. Harry wandered away reasonably often to check on the progress of the book signing. He was still eager to talk to Buffy separately, and she smiled encouragingly when she saw him, but she was still inundated by fans.

Eventually the crowds thinned out and Buffy retreated through the back door. Harry left his books with the others to make his way around the back. They let him go on the conditions that Logan and Arthur were allowed to follow him (at a discreet distance), he wore his invisibility cloak and had his wand drawn.

Harry stopped at the end of the alley into the back of Flourish and Blotts when he heard voices. Two people, who he couldn't see around the corner, were arguing, quite vehemently. A man and woman by their voices, and even through the invisibility cloak, he was sure he recognised them.

About to remove the cloak and step out, Harry heard his own name. Moody had drilled him in the idea that vigilance was he better part of valour. He froze; despite the dubious nature of Moody's declaration, Harry tended to follow his advice.

"You're jealous," the woman said.

The man scoffed.

"Then tell me why I can't help the boy.

"Are you implying that my jealousy would be a reason for you put down this fool's errand?

"I didn't know that you could put down an errand," the woman. Harry was that the fake confusion in her voice was Buffy's. "But you're hardly an enemy anyone wants.

"Thank you. You would do best to keep out of Potter's way. He has a tendency to make mistakes which can be costly.

Snape. Harry felt his own pain and anger begin to rise again.

"So can I," Buffy said sharply. "Have you read my book? Did I tell you that my friends, who hated me then, cried when they read it?

"I pity the poor souls," Snape said. "But that was not my point. Potter's life and manners are dangerous and he would do best to face them on his own. The advice of a young woman whose experiences hold little weight against his own will not, in the long run, prove to be helpful.

Harry's anger was fuelled further by this slight against Buffy. She had known what she was talking about. And Hermione had said that the book's accounts were realistic.

"I know what I'm talking about," Buffy said. "I was his age, facing things much bigger than him, not very long ago. You have nothing to say about that.

"You question my experience?

"I question your feelings for Harry, yes. You are mean and bitter old man.

"Why you little chit!

"Hey," Buffy said. "Rule one, nothing about my height. Point two, I know many people who would be willing and able to take you down for derogatory comments about women. If you cannot argue a point without resorting to personal attacks, then you lack either the pride or the intelligence of a true master.

Her defiant declaration was met with silence. Harry was impressed that anyone had stood up to the Snape. But the following sounds of a scuffle worried him. Snape was known for his self-restraint in the face of personal insults. Harry didn't think that there was anything worse than calling him stupid, except maybe comparing him to Sirius, which in Snape's warped mind meant the same thing.

After several long breaths Harry still had no clue as to what was happening. Silence, he'd come to learn, was rarely a good sign, and certainly wasn't comforting. Moody's voice still in his head he stepped, invisible, around the corner into the back lot of the bookshop.

He was confronted by one of the most horrific and scaring images of his life: Professor Snape and Buffy kissing. Not a friendly kiss on the cheek type of kiss, but a full-body, lips pressed, passionate embrace. It didn't look one of the kisses in the movies; which he could have dismissed as his own nightmare image; it was definitely real. They were definitely enjoying it.

Harry found himself sitting on the concrete. Florian Fortescue's Sundae Special began to turn in his stomach. And, like the bad train wreck movie, he found he couldn't look away.

Reluctantly, it appeared to Harry, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. As if they had run a sprint, Harry forced himself to think. Not anything else, sprinting.

"Rule three," Buffy panted, "you can't end arguments like that.

"Why ever not?" Snape asked, with polite interested, "You did last night.

Harry's brain was unable to process the connotations of that phrase, with the sprinting idea. There was little you could do to avoid the obvious implications. His eyes rolled back in his head. This wasn't a lust potion of some kind; it was a real relationship. His head banged against the concrete as he fell backwards. But he was aware of the parting lines.

"I'll have a point to argue with you tonight, wench.

"Only if you show me the trick to that cloak swirling thing.

Harry came to with a sore head. He opened his eyes to find Buffy's anxious face peering down at him. He blushed. Buffy smiled gently.

"Don't worry, I've been caught doing much worse things, by much worse people, in worse situations, too.

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the alley quickly. Buffy handed him his invisibility cloak.

"I kind of got distracted before I really noticed you were there," Buffy apologised, "Or I would have said something. I won't now, because Severus doesn't seem to like you very much. There's not much worse than a teacher with a grudge. Ones that want to bite your friend's head off are up there. Can you stand?

"What?" Harry asked.

"Up," Buffy said. "Stand up, rather than lying down?

Harry nodded. Buffy held out a hand and helped pull him to his feet. Harry brushed himself off and looked around again. Surely Tonks and Arthur would be somewhere nearby.

Buffy gestured to the cloak in his hand.

"Do you know where I could get one of those? I'm sure they'd come in handy. I've had to fight invisible things before, I'd like a chance to even the playing field a little.

Harry shrugged. "This was my father's.

"Ah, no worries," Buffy said. "Maybe I can finesse Severus into getting me one for Christmas. He still owes me for the Turok-Han power I gave him for his birthday.

Harry found the fact that she called him Severus as disturbing as any of the images his brain supplied to go with the word "finesse." In rebuttal to the thoughts of Buffy and Snape, Harry's brain supplied with information for a History of Magic class. He wondered if he could use the memory as a study aid.

"Turok-Hans haven't existed for thousands of years," he said. "The last powder was used more than a century ago forÉ É something. But we've just got normal vampires now.

"Unless you're up against the self-styled ultimate evil who has a key into hell," Buffy said, brightly.

Harry blinked. But decided to go with safe option of nodding and smiling vaguely.

"You'll just have to read my books," Buffy told him, well recognising the look.

"But Snape!" Harry said, his mind finally taking over his mouth. "He's older than you, and mean and nasty, and embittered. He's all dark and sallow. And looming. And he used to be evil. You're much to beautiful to be stuck with him.

"Well, you can read the first book to learn that that's not always the case. Especially for me.

Harry nodded, unsure that he really wanted to think down those lines.

Buffy grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you have people who are supposed to be protecting you," she said gently. "Just remember that prophecies are not the be all and end all. They depend on interpretation, and no matter how clear-cut it looks, it never falls out the way you'd expect. Just do what needs to be done, and don't be afraid to ask for help, or other opinions. Prophecies will happen, and trying to fulfil them, or get around them will never work. Look what happened to Oedipus, or, well, his father, I suppose, or the Wicked Witch in Snow White. Or me. Trust me, dying sucks. The first rule is don't die.' Do you think you can manage that?

Harry paused, mind humming. The latest thoughts would not disturb his sleep as much as the earlier ones.

"I'll try," he said.

"All anyone can do," Buffy said. "Here, take my card. I know you guys don't have email there, but that address will let your owl through straight to me. And I might see you around at school some times, too.

He groaned. Buffy chuckled.

"Don't look like that. I have to talk to Dumbledore about setting up a trust fund. Besides, if I were coming to see Severus, I would hardly advertise it by letting myself be seen by students.

Harry closed his. "You know I'm going to be wondering about that now, don't you?

"I'm evil like that," Buffy said.

She picked up her guitar case from against the wall and slung it over her shoulder.

"See you, Harry. Good luck.

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling in reply. "You, too.

Buffy waved to him as she went one way down the alley and he turned around back to where Tonks and Mr Weasley would be. It had been good to speak to someone who both understood what he had to do, and was not awed by it. He would look forward to seeing her again.


	3. Chapter Two

Life in Sunnyhell

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

Author's Notes: Sorry about the delay. We were trapped in an alternate dimension (Real Life ™) _sans_ computers. Real life is beginning again soon, but we'll do our best to ignore it.

October, Harry's seventh year.

**Chapter Two:**

It was cold and stormy by the middle of October. Harry got to spend his evenings in the Gryffindor common room, listening absently to Hermione and Ron bickering. Ron refused to let Hermione talk about Buffy's book until he had finished reading it. Which of course, would be long after Hermione had finished (two hours and forty-five minutes after they had gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron).

"But how many books have you ever actually finished, Ronald?" Hermione snapped. "Two books about the Chudley Cannons and those awful comics."

Ron glared at Hermione sourly and crossed his arms. Harry thought that Hermione's point was a bit harsh, however accurate it might be. Buffy's book was more interesting and easier to read than any of their school texts, and many of the books Hermione read for pleasure.

Hermione couldn't make Ron talk about the book, and she couldn't really get him to listen to her comments about it either. Until he arrived in the common room one evening before Halloween, carrying the book and a triumphant expression.

"I hope we can have her for Defence Against the Dark Arts next year," Ron announced. "She'd be much more interesting than Professor Mountjoy. Especially if she showed us some of those moves she describes," he added, thoughtfully. "And I wonder if she ever dates younger guys."

Hermione, who had been looking pleased with Ron, narrowed her eyes and made a hissing type of noise, both disgust and derision. The sound reminded Harry quite strong of the sound the Basilisk had made before she had struck. Harry decided that Moody had been quite right; he did not want to get between an irate witch and her target, however much danger his best friend might be in.

"You did read the book, didn't you?" Hermione said. "I doubt that they were actually the Vampires she describes, but even if they were human, it's a metaphor for age and experience, and maturity, none of which you have, Ron."

"So I'll never be as old or as smart or as mature as you, Hermione. And I'll never not be a guy. But it doesn't mean I'm actually stupid."

Hermione huffed.

"Of course not, Ron," she said. But Harry, and it seemed Ron, too, thought she sounded too patronising and too placating.

Harry knew that Buffy wouldn't be at all interested in Ron, even if he were older than she was, but he didn't like to think about the proof he had. Ron had crossed his arms, a familiar recent habit when dealing with Hermione, and was glaring at her again.

"I don't think it's a metaphor, Hermione," Harry said gently.

Hermione rounded on him, angry now at having been interrupted.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, what you said about age and maturity, and I suppose experience, too. I think she really likes guys like that. I think her boyfriend really was a vampire. So she'd go for guys who are like vampires."

Ron snorted. "So out of everyone at Hogwarts, she'd mostly likely go for Snape."

Harry blanched. He knew he had wanted to tell his friends what he had seen. There hadn't been an appropriate opportunity before now. But he had just been forcibly reminded of exactly what he had seen, and found he was unable to speak.

Hermione suddenly looked concerned.

"You look like you're going to be sick, Harry."

Harry was just able to nod.

"You are going to be sick? Do you want to see Madam Pomfrey? Or should I just transfigure you a bucket? Ron, hand me that book."

Harry thought he must have looked almost as ill as he had felt, because Ron handed over his copy of Life in Sunnyhell without protest. Harry waved him away.

"Ron was right," Harry said. "Snape is just Buffy's type."

It was Ron's turn to blanch. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Angelus was supposed to be very attractive," she said slowly.

"And you know this how?" Ron demanded.

"Ron!" Hermione sighed. "There are pictures in some of the books I read. You could probably read them, too."

She smiled gently at him. Ron scowled, but less than before.

"Ah, you did hear what I said?" Harry asked. "Buffy and Snape."

"I don't believe it," Ron said firmly.

"I can see how you might see a parallel like that, Harry," Hermione said. "But I don't think that Snape would be interested in anyone, let alone Buffy. He gives off a real sense of 'leave me alone, dark and broodiness.'"

Harry quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Hermione's eyes widened and she said "oh!" quietly.

"I don't believe it," Ron said again.

"Well, I saw them kissing," Harry said, sounding as shocked and disgusted as he felt.

"Okay," Ron sad, after several moments silence. "Okay."

"I probably shouldn't have told you. But, well, you were never going to have a chance, and I thought you should know."

"This was when you hit your head?" Hermione asked. "There was no other time you could have seen them alone together," Hermione explained.

"It was why I hit my head," Harry said. "I saw them and was so shocked I fainted. Buffy was very good about it afterwards. She told me not to die."

Harry had been thinking about his odd conversations with Buffy on and off for the last several weeks. Some of what she had said had been so simple and made so much sense, and yet she seemed to take nothing particularly seriously. He thought, perhaps, he might like to ask her about Sirius.

Ron had once again expressed his doubts about the whole thing and Harry's sanity. Harry was quite protective of his representations of his mental state, but felt that he wanted Ron to be right. Hermione was arguing by making a case for Snape's attractiveness. This did not seem to be helping.

"No!" Ron shouted. "I don't care how well he looks after his robes, I don't want to hear about it."

"Neither do I," Harry said. "Couldn't you play chess, or something, then I could go for a walk, I need to think."

Hermione looked concerned again, but Harry stood up briskly and grinned at them.

"I found a book on the history of chess at my local library," Hermione told Ron, before he say anything more. "I'm sure I have I much better understanding of the use of castling and defensive pawns now."

Ron's smile was not particularly reassuring. Harry waved goodbye to him and pick up his cloak on the way towards to the portrait.

Harry walked aimlessly through the castle, trying to replace the memories of Buffy kissing Snape by thinking about her advice on prophecies. He had been thinking carefully about 'Prophecies will happen… but not the way you expect.' It was causing him a little difficultly because as far as anyone knew, only half of his prophecy had been fulfilled, which meant there was more of it to go, and he had no idea what to think about it.

He turned a random corner and skipped down a staircase, while he thought about Dumbledore's place in things. He still hadn't felt comfortable about taking questions to Dumbledore, even though Dumbledore was more comfortable about answering them.

"Neither can live while the other survives," was a phrase that particularly worried him. Did it mean that he wasn't already alive? After all, he had been hit with the killing curse. The only way not to die when you were hit with the killing was to already be dead. And then there was "Either must die at the hand of the other," which came just before it. Harry didn't see that there was anyway he was going to get out of actually killing Voldemort, and neither could Dumbledore.

Harry stopped suddenly in the quiet corridors of the castle and looked around him, sure that Mrs Norris must be somewhere nearby, even if it wasn't curfew yet. He walked quietly passed Myrtle's bathroom, not wanting the ghost's attention either, and continued wandering, through the castle and the prophecy, which had been haunting him since before he was born.

Eventually his contemplations were happily interrupted by voices. Well, it was happy until Harry recognised the combination of voices that had been haunting him for the last couple of months.

"Are you sure we're okay in public like this, Severus? You said something about the proprieties of a teacher."

"It's not yet after curfew," Snape's distinctive voice replied.

Distinctive was the best that could be said for it, Harry thought.

"You only find children out _after_ curfew," Snape sneered. "They do it so I have to patrol the corridors, wasting my evenings keeping the brattlings out of trouble. One cannot have an evening off without first arranging it with the headmaster and putting up various snide and suggestive comments when the other staff discover that you are not on a particular night's roster."

Harry felt a little thrill at triumph that Snape disliked patrolling the corridors as much as they disliked him patrolling corridors, even if it did make him seem a little more normal. Harry's feelings of pleasure were completely destroyed by Buffy's cooing response.

"Oh, you really missed me, sweetheart?"

Despite the obvious exaggeration in Buffy's tone of voice, Harry was horrified to think that she had been sincere, at least in sentiment.

"No one has ever accused me of even having a heart," Snape said, sounding mildly curious. "Let alone a sweet one."

"I'm a Vampire Slayer," Buffy said.

There was a pause, and faint wet noise. Harry knew, personally now, what that was, and for the first time since Susan had stayed behind after last year's first DA meeting, wished he didn't.

"I can see things," Buffy said, a little breathlessly, now. There was another pause before she said, "other people cannot."

"So Faith would be able to verify the existence of my heart, and its sugar content."

"Well, Faith has made mistakes in the past. And I don't think I want you to get close enough to her for her to try."

"Well, then, I suppose I can merely dismiss your comments as erroneous and meant to annoy."

"As long as you don't dismiss me as merely erroneous and meant to annoy," Buffy said.

"How can I prove that I haven't?" Snape asked.

Harry almost screamed. This was Professor Snape trying to be seductive. But the Train-wreck thing had started again, and Harry was worried that if he moved they would hear him. Well, Snape hearing, he supposed Buffy would be much kinder, even if she weren't very nice about it at all. She couldn't give detentions.

"Well," Buffy said, in a tone of voice that froze Harry's insides. "You could kiss me again. And I liked what you did that Wednesday."

Harry froze. The vagueness of the reference, and the obvious seductive qualities of Buffy's tone of voice, were really too much for him to think about in relation to Professor Snape. Harry quietly and with extreme care, backed down the corridor. When he was safe from being heard, he turned to run back to the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione and Ron were still in the middle of a chess game, Ron's steepled fingers moving in the manner of movie villains. Harry flung himself into a chair beside them.

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked.

"Buffy's here," Harry said.

"How is she?" Hermione asked; a little distracted by a vicious attack on one of her rooks.

"I didn't say hi," Harry said. He took a breath, "She was in the dungeons. With Snape."

"I bet she would have welcomed an interruption. She could have protected you from getting detention."

"I'm sure they wanted to be alone," Harry said.

Ron looked at him, confused for a moment as to what he meant. And Hermione merely looked sceptical. She also looked like she might try to come up with another explanation of what they were doing together.

"They weren't fighting," Harry said. "And if you won't believe me, please just let it be. I don't want to think about it anymore."

Ron and Hermione went back to their game, obviously humouring Harry for the moment. Harry didn't mind. He still had no idea what Buffy might see in Snape, nor any desire to find anything attractive in the man. That way was a slippery slope to mental breakdown. But he still had questions to ask Buffy about what she had said; he'd just have to wait until he saw her in more approachable circumstances.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter three:

Hermione and Ron had gone home to their respective families for the Christmas break and Harry was looking forward to a quiet Christmas day. The only other sixth year at the Christmas dinner table was Neville, and they took seats together at the end, away from Snape. The handful of other students also seemed keen to avoid their potions teacher.

The table was laid with usual sumptuous care; gold plates, cutlery and Christmas crackers. The sheer quantity of Christmas trees, taking up the rest of the Great Hall, made Harry wonder if Hagrid had in fact deforested an entire island. And also how Professor Flitwick had managed to charm the tops of the trees gold, given how much taller than him they were. He had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Flitwick on a broom.

The time came and went when Dumbledore would normally have stood to say his few words, and Harry looked around, trying to see who they were waiting for. All the teachers (except for Trelawney) were there, and the only spare seat was next to Snape, so they weren't waiting for a student.

Before the table became too impatient, and Dumbledore had to summon the food, one of the side doors into the hall was pushed open. A head, obscured by a deep hood peered around the door. A figure followed, and walked briskly towards the table, shedding cloak and gloves as it came.

"Sorry you had to wait for me," Buffy said, smiling brightly. "But the staircases weren't cooperating. I gave them a solid talking to; I don't think they're going to try that on me again any time soon."

"So you took your bags to your rooms yourself, I take it?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Those house-elves kind of freak me out. I keep thinking they're going to send me to detention."

Buffy dropped into the only free seat, next to Snape, and grinned at him. He did not smile back.

"Now that we are all gathered together here, in the spirit of the season, we can eat."

The serving plates filled with food, and Harry and Neville served themselves a large amount of roast beef and few vegetables. Harry would have been more than happy to eat ignoring everyone else at the table. Until he heard Hagrid's voice asking:

"So, Buffy, how's Fluffy, doin'?"

"He's really good," Buffy said. "I brought you a picture of him with all the girls," she took an envelope out of her robes and passed it across the table. "It's great having a pet I can't kill," Buffy went on. "I don't have to feed him, or walk him. Beside, whatever Giles and Willow say about our security systems, nothing says 'Keep the hell away' like a giant three headed dog."

Hagrid nodded effusively. He took the photos out of the envelope and arranged them carefully around his dinner. He also took a tea-towel out of his coat and noisily blew his nose.

"He's looking happy. I always knew he'd be great with kiddies."

Buffy nodded, although Harry almost chocked on a potato. Snape glared at Buffy as though encouraging Hagrid were a criminal act.

"The younger girls think he's fun. And it's good practice for the older ones to fight something they don't want to kill. Still, I wish he wouldn't drool in my shoes."

The look of disgust Snape gave Buffy was more eloquent than any words he could have used, but she simply ignored him.

"Surely your students are up to greater challenges than facing an overgrown puppy, which will fall asleep at the slightest tuneless warble. I suppose that's all one can expect of a group of teenage girls."

The two experts on the many glares of Snape turned to look at each other.

"Poor Buffy," Harry said, "He usually works his way up to comments like that."

Neville shrugged. "It's only Snape," he said.

"Wow, Neville. I didn't know you could say 'only Snape.'"

"Just because I'm terrified of him, doesn't mean I think everyone else should be. Besides, Buffy's the Slayer; she can hold her own."

Harry shrugged and nodded, and turned his attention back to his plate, taking seconds of food he knew Dudley wouldn't be allowed to eat, despite his newfound physical prowess.

He kept an eye on Buffy and Snape over his stuffing and goose skin. He was sure he was the only one at the table who thought that Snape was actually having fun sitting beside the "little American nitwit." Buffy certainly held her own, ignoring him in favour of making rather pointed comments to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinistra.

The one time he tried to defend himself she said, "Do try to keep you oversized beak out of conversation. Not everything is about you."

Just once, Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore grinning at the pair of them. This did not make Harry anymore comfortable. If someone else was aware of the possible undertones of their conversation, they would be much more difficult to ignore; and infinitely harder to pass off as some form of torture devised by Voldemort.

To put them out of his mind Harry started paying more attention to Neville and Professor Sprout's lively discussion about the beneficial uses of deadly plants. Harry had never seen Neville so animated. And, while he wasn't particularly interested in the useful things one could do with Devil's Snare, it was more interesting that whatever furtive glances Buffy and Snape were shooting at each other.

All in all, Harry enjoyed his meal. He was feeling rather full after indulging in Christmas pudding and Treacle Tart for dessert. Though even he had to admit that the Mince Pie was pushing it a bit, but the thought of Dudley's diet pushed him through the test of his endurance. He had though to approach Buffy after dinner, but she was currently actually talking to Snape, and he dared not interrupt. He decided, instead, to meet her on the way to supper that evening, ignoring for the moment how he knew that she would be coming from the Dungeons. Neville and Professor Sprout barely stopped talking about the effect of drying charms on the potency of dried herbs to bid him farewell; and Harry walked back through the castle to the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione had given Harry a book of myths for Christmas and he sat down in front of the fire to read it, glad Hermione wasn't there to comment. Neville arrived not too much later, distracting him from the stories quite readily. It wasn't that they were boring, but just that, in true Hermione style, they were well researched and thought that absolutely everything was interesting.

"Hey, Neville, are you up for a game of chess?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged. "Sure," he said.

Neville wasn't a brilliant chess player, but he had been taught rather obsessively by Ron, and was now up to beating Harry on a regular basis. Harry disappeared for a moment to collect his and Neville's chessmen from the dormitory and they set the game up in front of the fire.

Harry won the first match fairly quickly, managing to pull one of the moves Ron frequently humiliated him with. But Neville managed to take the next match with a surprise attack with a knight and a bishop. At the end of the fourth game Harry looked at the clock and immediately stood up. Neville looked up at him enquiringly.

"Have you had enough of chess?" Neville asked.

"I just wanted to catch up with Buffy before supper. I have some things I wanted to ask her."

Neville quickly stood up. "Could I come with you? Just to say hello."

Harry looked a little surprised. "I didn't know you knew her."

"I met her at Gran's," Neville explained. "She didn't ignore me like most of Gran's visitors tend to."

"Sure thing then. The company will be nice."

Neville looked a little confused at this comment, but let it slide, and followed Harry out of the Common Room into the corridor.

Harry led Neville through the empty hallways, while they discussed, in depth, the recent decline in the variety and quality of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. As they got to the reduction in the frequency and potency of the more disgusting flavours, and their hopes that the company would restore the standards to which they had previously adhered, they heard raised voices.

Both Neville and Harry froze. Neville glanced around the corridor.

"Ah, Harry? This is the dungeons," he said.

"Yeah," Harry said, waving for Neville to be quiet.

Snape was speaking, his voice the same familiar low menacing tone.

"If you don't cease and desist that now, I will have to matters into my own hands," Snape said.

Neville quivered a little and looked anxiously at Harry, who was inching closer very carefully.

"As much as I enjoyed that last time," another, definitely female voice said. Buffy. "I'm hungry. I need to refuel."

"I'm flattered, really," Snape replied. "I didn't think a Slayer could be worn out by a middle aged Potions master."

"You're not middle aged," Buffy said. "Giles is middle aged. And you're well below average age for my boyfriends. And it takes different muscles," she added defensively.

"Well then, I suppose I will simply have to feed you," Snape said. "How tedious."

Harry backed quickly down the hallway, dragging Neville behind a corner on the way.

"What…?" Neville began to say, before Harry shushed him again. "Do you want Snape to know that we know?"

Neville meeped and backed away a bit further.

"We have to meet them coming," Harry said, thinking quietly out loud. "So we have to walk more loudly, get their attention or something."

Neville could only nod, wide eyed. He trusted Buffy not to let Snape actually kill them, but drawing Snape's attention was not something that he was ever going to do voluntarily.

Harry started walking back towards the dungeons from the outer corridor and Neville really had no choice to follow.

"Come one, Neville, I'm sure Buffy is going to come to supper; it's always very good. Maybe they'll have more treacle tart. I don't think anyone else ate any."

"Potter!" Snape spat. He came around the corner and had to pull himself up sharply to avoid running over Harry.

"Hi Harry, hi Neville," Buffy said from behind him.

"Hello Buffy," Harry said. "Ah, I wanted to come and talk to you. About, well, things."

"Potter, I hardly think…" Snape began.

"Severus, the boy was talking to me," Buffy said, smiling at Harry and ignoring Snape's glare.

Snape's glare was pretty powerful, though, and Neville had to expend more energy to overcome the desire to run away.

Buffy brushed past Severus and collected Neville and Harry on her way to the Great Hall. Harry could feel Snape's glare on the back of his neck. He glanced back to see that Snape had turned back to his quarters and sighed with relief.

"How's your Gran, Neville?" Buffy asked.

Harry quickly turned back to focus on the conversation.

"Well," Neville said. "She's a little tired, but I'm glad that she has other people to boss now."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "She's very good at railroading. I think we could have used her against the Mayor. She hasn't mentioned any particular problems with the girls? Some of them can a bit of the handful."

"I think Gran would just prefer it if they dressed in a hat and gloves. And she finds their hair annoying sometimes."

Buffy nodded. "Oh, have you gotten a letter from Melissa recently?" Buffy asked. "She's been trying to convince me that we need your help on the Council gardens."

To Harry's amazement, and Buffy's obvious delight, Neville blushed. He managed to stammer something which sounded like a denial. Buffy clapped him on back and turned to Harry.

"You came to see me?" she began.

"Ah yeah. About what you said about prophecies?"

"I'll catch you guys up," Neville said, not looking at them.

He turned into a corridor which would eventually lead him to the astronomy tower and was gone.

"You can't do anything about them," Buffy said.

"Huh?"

"Not a thing," Buffy said. "Prophecies are simply a statement of facts. This will happen, this has happened. Yours is a relationship one, isn't it? it tells you about your big-bad."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Prophecies are always true and they always happen. But there's no point worrying about them, because you're bound to get something wrong, and that could just make the rest of it harder."

"It says I have to kill him."

"Or what?" Buffy asked.

"Or what what?"

"What happens if you don't kill him?"

"Well, he kills me, I guess," Harry said, scuffing his shoes on the stones. That part was fairly explicit he thought; there was no it was going to happen accidentally.

"And you don't think that you could do it, that you couldn't kill someone in a moment when it is their life or yours and the lives of everyone you love. Death is very quick, Harry. You only have to decide once that they deserve it because of what they have done, what they will, and for the lives of everyone else."

Harry thought back to the Third Task, and to Sirius, and to the moment when he had tried to cast the Crucius curse on Bellatrix. He would only have to mean it for a flash, just the flash that he cast the spell. He shivered.

"I don't think I can do it," he said.

"Good," Buffy said. "Because there's no way we want you to be able to kill anyone while walking through Hogwarts on Christmas day with a beautiful young woman. That would be worrying."

Harry chuckled.

"Plus, they're always open to interpretation. You can be sure they'll come true, but you can't be sure of how. It will happen whether you worry about it not; so it's better not worry about it. Worry about when you're going to get your next serve of treacle tart."

Harry laughed again. Buffy nodded approvingly.

"Rule One: Don't die," Buffy repeated.

"Is there a rule two?" Harry asked.

Buffy thought about for a moment.

"Always have ice-cream in the freezer," she said.


	5. Chapter Four

Life in Sunnyhell

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

**Chapter Four**

When Harry awoke on the nineteenth of January he didn't want to get out of bed. He probably should have taken it as a sign of things come, but at the time he thought it was merely a reaction to the bitterly cold weather. He dragged himself of bed and ended up dressed, ready for classes and at breakfast on time, if not fully awake.

"How are you this morning?" Hermione asked, brightly.

Harry grunted.

"With that sort of attitude, Harry, you'll never have a good day."

"Well what's he got to look forward to then?" Ron said.

Hermione absently punched Ron in the arm and kept examining Harry.

"Ah, double potions after lunch?" Harry asked.

"Have you looked at the Teachers' table, this morning?" Hermione demanded in her practiced I know everything you don't voice.

Harry raised his head to see the teachers at the high table. It took him two scans to realise why he hadn't flinched yet, and therefore what was missing.

"Where's Snape?" He asked.

"_I _don't know," Hermione said.

"Maybe he got eaten by one of his potions," Ron suggested gleefully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Potions don't eat people, Ron. They will occasionally vaporise, burn, corrode, possibly melt, or on rare occasions transubstantiate, they do not however eat."

Ron caught Harry's eye and made a face. Harry shook his, smiling. Before Hermione could defend herself, Dumbledore stood up and everyone fell silent.

"A small announcement this morning," he said. "Professor Snape will not be taking any classes today. Potions classes will be taken by another Professor. You are all expected to attend."

Ron's face fell.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"You get to have a potions class without Snape. It's like my dream; do you know how many times I wished I could have a potions class without Snape? We've been saving up for years, well not Percy, but the rest of us, to you know, get rid of him permanently."

Hermione glared at him. "How dare you talk about a Professor like that? Even Snape, I mean I will miss him in class today. He's an amazing teacher, so intelligent and… commanding."

Ron choked on whatever protest he might have come up with and turned an unflattering shade of green. Harry sat up straighter and calmly continued eating. He was quiet looking forward to day without Snape and with Hermione deliberately taunting an unsuspecting Ron. At least, he hoped it was deliberate. He couldn't have dealt with the thought that more than one person liked Snape that way.

When Ron finished his last class for the day, Astronomical theory, he went searching for Harry and Hermione to ask them how much better potions could be without Snape. He eventually found in one corner of an unusually quiet Common room. Hermione was staring blankly at her prized copy of _Hogwarts; A History_, frowning as though it no longer held the comforting answers that it had before. Harry's hair was more dishevelled than Ron had ever seen, and as Ron sat down he thought there was some sort of muck in it.

"What's up with you two?" Ron asked. "You look like you've had the entire inventory of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes forced down your throats."

Hermione dazedly looked up, staring blearily at Ron.

"We had Professor Flitwick taking us for potions," she said, with a shudder. "I guess we never realised just how dangerous Potions could be without Professor Snape there."

Ron looked confused, and then elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"Harry you tell me, she's not serious. Having Snape for potions is a good thing?"

Harry shook his head, as though shaking out cobwebs. He absently rubbed at the scar on his forehead.

"He better than Professor Flitwick. You know how Snape stalks around the room being scary and making nasty comments, but, well, maybe that's not just why he does it. If even half the disasters in Potion's today could have been prevented because Snape was there I owe him a mental apology."

Harry took in a deep breath. "I didn't even know Flitwick could get angry like that, or, you know, scary."

Hermione nodded vigorously, "After the fifth explosion he just lost it. He turned all red, and his voice got even higher, but it wasn't at all funny. It was much scarier than Snape on a normal day; no one knew what to do. Luckily Susan Bones was knocked out in the first hour. The Bloody Baron brought Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey and that was the end of the class. Professor Flitwick was so enraged it took the two of to control him."

Ron stared at them, his mouth gaping open. "The bloody baron?"

"Snape had charged him with making sure his classroom wasn't destroyed."

Harry stood up, pushing his chair out. "I'm going for a walk before supper. I want to see if I can get the smell of burning flesh out of my nose. It isn't particularly appetising."

Ron just waved goodbye absently and watched Hermione, who had returned to staring blankly at her book as though it had the ability to make everything all right again.

Harry left the Castle and wandered in the direction of the lake; close to the castle in case anything happened, but away from Hagrid's hut and any possibly-escaped "projects." It was almost dark, and there wasn't going to be a moon, so Harry felt safely out of view. He found a comfortable patch of grass near a tree by the lake and dropped onto it. The squid was swimming lazily across the water and Harry waved to him.

The squid might have waved back, but not in any clearly obvious way. Harry leant his chin on his knees, stared at the water and thought about nothing. He didn't think about the fact that he only had other year and a half of school left, he didn't think about the intricacies that might exist in his prophecy, and he didn't think about what it was that had ended up in his hair.

His quiet reverie was interrupted by the disappointingly un-novel arrival of voices. Harry sighed and tucked himself further into a ball, relying on his dark robes and the tree at his back to keep him hidden, absently wondering if he was ever going to be able to enjoy a quiet walk without someone or something interrupting. The voices he heard were highly familiar, and Harry prepared himself for another round of scary mental images as Buffy and Snape came into view, the couple holding hands as they walked.

"This is exceedingly pleasant," Buffy purred contentedly. She grinned, teeth catching the little light, "You really know how to show a girl a good time, Sev: the thoughtful gifts, the dancing attendance, romantic meals. I'll have to have a birthday with you around more often."

Snape snorted. "I do not now nor have I ever demeaned myself to the level of 'dancing attendance' as you so quaintly put it. That implies a certain level of servitude that I abhor, and I doubt I could walk in those shoes, let alone maintain a rhythm. Also please refrain from calling me Sev. My name is Severus, kindly do not shorten it."

Harry inwardly cringed at the combination of Snape using the word please in an un-sarcastic manner, combined with telling them to call him by his first name; that had to be one for the history books.

"Well, grouchiness aside, this has still been the best birthday I've ever had. I can't believe you managed to convince everyone to play along. I was sure that with my track record with birthdays that Willow, Dawn and Giles would put me under as many protective spells and barriers they could manage. But to my surprise I was whisked away by a tall, dark, mysterious wizard for a luxurious date."

Harry saw Buffy stretch up onto her toes to kiss Snape on the nose before continuing. "Whatever should I do to repay you for your generosity?"

"I'm sure we can come up with something satisfactory." Snape said with an audible smirk in his voice. "Unfortunately I am due back at the castle in about an hour and a half so I'm afraid my reward will have to wait." Snape paused, "I do wish to warn you against humouring me as to the reception of my gifts. You will be the one to suffer at subsequent occasions if you have given a false impression of your taste."

Buffy rolled her eyes and effected his pompous turn of phrase for a moment, "I hardly thought you would be ignorant of my anvil like hints as to the suitability of an invisibility cloak, and one can always appreciate the gift of a new sword."

Snape seemed almost uncertain for a moment, an emotional state Harry had been sure he was incapable of expressing calmly.

"I was actually referring to the less work oriented gifts," Snape said. "The jewellery for instance, the purely visible cloak, and those hideous boots your sister assured me were ideal."

"Oh, those are great too," Buffy shrugged. "But nothing says 'I care' like sword."

Buffy glanced down at her boots. "Damn! I wish Hagrid would clean up after his pets, these boots are going to need a thorough scrubbing when I get back."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Really my dear, have you forgotten that I am a wizard?" he asked, his acerbic self for a moment. Snape removed his wand from its holster and pointed it lazily at the shoes.

"_Scourgify!"_

Buffy's wiggled her toes as the spell removed the muck from the outside of the shoes. It also smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the leather, and repaired the scuffmarks.

"That is so totally brilliant," Buffy said, eyes wide in awe. She looked back up at Severus. "Marry me?"

"If had know that was all it required," Snape said, in the mocking tone reserved for first years and Gryffindors, "then I would have displayed my wand waving prowess sooner."

Harry responded to the tone of voice with a flinch, but Buffy, blushing at the innuendo punched Snape lightly on the shoulder.

"Seriously, though, I was very impressed. I probably shouldn't have been, but there you go."

Snape's face broke into a genuinely, and affectionately amused smile. Harry turned his mind to the book on Martial Arts meditation Dudley's boxing coach had given him and Dudley had thrown out. He began to concentrate carefully on each of the muscles in his feet then his legs, and on up his body until he was completely relaxed, curled with his arms around his knees. And then he was able to concentrate on his breathing and the coolness of the earth he was sitting on (which would probably result in grass stains… but oh well), and shut out all other thoughts and sounds. This was probably what Snape had meant for him to learn in the Occulmency lessons, but had never thought to explain.

'But we aren't thinking about that now, Harry,' he told himself, 'breathe in, breathe out.'

The quiet rhythm of his breathing, though, was only echoed by other sounds, from further away. Nothing scary, though, and Harry was fooled into opening his eyes. Buffy was smiling at Snape again, and Harry decided that he could just be glad that someone so nice had cause to smile.

"You had to get back, you said. It's still the best birthday I ever had."

"I have heard the stories, and I do not believe that that is a compliment. When compared to some of your previous birthdays, I really think something with a few more superlative and complimentary adjectives is appropriate." Snape paused, brushing an errant strand of Buffy's hair off her face, what looked to Harry's eyes to be a gentle smile of content on his face. "Besides, loath as I am to admit it, I actually enjoyed today, even the ice-skating."

Harry quickly closed his eyes again, concentrating on each of the muscles in his fingers, slowly relaxing them, deciding that this should be added to Gryffindor's pre-Quidditch routine, it really was helping him focus.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you can figure skate. You may have been out of practice, but you'll never convince me that you've never figure skated." Buffy sighed, leaning into Snape's arms, who obligingly closed them around her.

"You know as well as I do that martial arts convey a certain grace when on the ice."

"Hey, my ice-skating is from my pre slaying Dorothy Hamil stage."

"In normal circumstances that admission would be grounds for me to leave you."

"And after you gave me such a lovely shiny sword for my birthday."

"We shall let the matter stand for now. I'm afraid I must go; who knows what my Slytherins will have got up to. I will see you in two weeks time in London at our usual meeting place."

Buffy looked up at him quizzically. "You know, most people ask before they set up a date."

"Well it's a good thing neither of us can be described as most people then." Snape stepped back from Buffy before passionately kissing her. "I will make up my mind how exactly I want you to thank me for the gifts before we next meet."

And with that Snape swept off towards the castle, not looking back once, a fact that relieved Harry no end, as he was eminently visible from that direction.

"You can come out now, Harry." Buffy called out. Harry slowly exited his hiding place.

"I wasn't spying, I was already here when you arrived. How long did you know I was there?"

"Only about five minutes, Severus had me a little distracted." Buffy smiled at Harry gently. "Don't worry, the shock numbs slightly. When one of my friends found out about Severus, he was so far into, 'Oh, dear Lord,' I thought I had missed an apocalypse, or you know a shoe sale. So anyway how have you been?"

"Alright I guess; I don't feel anywhere near ready to face Voldemort yet."

"Good. When you think you're ready they always throw something extra at you, usually bad."

Buffy grimaced, "You would think that once in a while the Powers would cut us a break, but it's all: 'now you have to kill them when they have a soul,' and 'Death is your gift,' I even had to put up with a 'Let's just destroy your senior Prom dress to totally screw up your Yearbook.' That one still bites."

Harry just looked at her with a dazed expression on his face, Buffy had just spouted out more information in one breath than even Hermione was capable. That confirmed the whole Slayer issue; only superpowers could explain that ability.

"I'm afraid I have to set off now Harry, I want to spend the rest of my Birthday surrounded by powerful friends and many weapons. Don't let Severus know you saw us down here; I don't think it would be very good for your life expectancy. By the way, tell Neville from me that if the stories Melissa has been spreading are true I am suitably impressed and he should be wary of a mob reception. Not that I think he would mind this one much"

Buffy nodded once and activated a Portkey and disappeared, leaving a slightly bewildered Harry in her wake.

"_Neville_?"


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

**Chapter Five**

Hermione was definitely evil.

"Professor Snape really is far more attractive than we have ever given him credit for," Hermione said, wistfully. "His hands alone are incredibly attractive, so strong and graceful."

Harry decided that he never wanted to end up on Hermione's bad side. Playing fair didn't seem to be in her vocabulary, and she was perfectly willing to recruit help. If it weren't so funny, Harry would have pitied Ron. But to leave Hermione gift-less on Valentines' Day was unforgivable – and he hadn't gotten around to asking her out yet.

Harry had given both Hermione and Ginny gifts this year even though he wasn't going out with either of them. Ron had definitely brought this on himself and Harry allowed himself to simply enjoy the show at breakfast.

Harry quickly filled his mouth with porridge to stop any laughter; Ron looked like he had swallowed a Blast-ended Skrewt. Harry had always heard that redheads looked good in green, but maybe that only applied to clothing and not complexion. Harry picked up his quill and returned to the letter he was writing, glad he had brought such wonderful cover along.

Ginny, responding to a glance from Hermione, added her part of the torment.

"And have you ever looked at the way he walks; so confident and sexy? I once saw him walking without his outer robes, and he has a really great butt."

Ron coughed into his pumpkin juice. The combination of Hermione and his sister both talking this way was obviously too much even for his appetite.

Lavender looked up at the teachers table and sighed, "He's just so compelling, so sexy. I mean, he seems like he would be good at anything he did. Not to mention what the say about men with large noses."

Hermione, Ginny and Lavender all looked up at the head table with a look of such calculating interest that Ron, unable to take it any more, pushed his chair away from the table and fled the Great Hall, clutching his small to average nose as he went. Once he was through the doors; Ginny was the first to start laughing.

"Hermione, I just want to thank you for the truly phenomenal revenge you just executed on my brother. I shall enter it in the Weasleys' Mischief Hall of Fame."

"I was only trying to wake your brother up to the fact that he can't expect me to wait months for him to ask me out, and be content with whatever attention he deigns to give me," Hermione said rather primly, before smiling wickedly. "I guess it was rather fun too. What did you think Harry, as our male advisor, was it too much?"

Harry swallowed quickly.

"Nah. He had it coming. It might have been over the top if he was too nervous to ask you out, but even I know better than to forget Valentines' Day and to expect to live. I am glad you gave me advance warning though, the whole Snape thing would've been disconcerting if I hadn't known it was an act."

Hermione looked thoughtfully up at the staff table. "I know I just started on about Snape to get Ron riled up, but there really is something sort of appealing about him. I mean, he's not a very nice person or anything, but he is certainly very passionate about some things, and that's always attractive."

Harry blanched, this time Hermione sounded serious.

Hermione continued. "He does seem to draw attention doesn't he, Ginny?"

"Yeah, what with that voice of his, plus the way he pierces you with his eyes; I suppose he could be termed sexually attractive."

"Well, I've been attracted to him since fifth year," said Lavender.

She quailed slightly under the stares she was getting from the people around her. "Only in an abstract sort of way. It's not like I want to get involved with him or something. I'm not a masochist."

Harry cleared his throat urgently. "I don't mean to be rude, but could we change the subject before I throw up?"

Hermione smirked slightly, "Okay Harry, let's put you out of you misery. Who are you writing to?

"Buffy," Harry said. "I want to thank her for the advice she's given me recently."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't think you'd written to her in a while. And wasn't she here just last month?"

"Yeah. And you don't know everything I do. She asked me to tell how I was preparing for the fight."

Hermione nodded. "I do hope you've been following her advice, Harry, if she's taking time out to give it to you."

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. "I thought you said that the Slayer had to be four thousand years old."

Hermione tilted her nose in the air. "Even if she isn't the Slayer, it doesn't mean the advice she gives is worthless. The training advice she has given you is both practical and versatile. Besides, I've worked out how she could be the Slayer and not be four thousand years old," she added. "It's a better theory than what I first thought."

Those who heard this confession; Lavender and Neville, as well as Ginny and Harry; looked at Hermione almost scandalised. Hermione frowned.

"There's no need to get silly, I'm not above making a mistake you know."

"We know that Hermione, we just didn't know you did."

Seeing the hurt look on Hermione's face, Harry grinned to soften the blow.

"You are mostly always right. It is a letter to Buffy; I wanted to as her a few questions about the alternative magic fighting techniques she mentioned. Do you have any messages you want me to send, Neville? To your Gran, or… Melissa?"

Neville blushed as three sets of female eyes focused in on him. His gaze frantically scanning the Great Hall for a diversion to give them, his gaze settling on a black eagle owl that was flying into the room, a large package clutched in its claws.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the ceiling.

"Neville, you can't expect us to fall for… I don't know," Lavender said, suddenly seeing the bird. "That's not a post owl."

The bird swooped across the late eaters and landed on the Teachers Table, next to Snape. Snape absently held a bacon rind out and the bird took it in a dignified manner before allow Snape to detach the parcel it carried.

Neville's secrets forgotten, most of the Gryffindor table watched hopefully to see whether the package would explode, or cause Snape to. Snape pulled out a card and read it without letting anyone see it over his shoulder. Snape did not smile, but Harry saw the lack of a calculating grin and felt it boded ill.

"We'd better start towards class," Hermione said. "Before Snape notices that we're hanging around."

"And miss his startling dark eyes pierce you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione shuddered. "Please! I don't want detention," she said.

"I want to know what he got," Lavender said, even as she collected her bag and stood up.

"Not enough to get detention to get into his office," Ginny said.

Harry was quite happy not thinking about what Buffy had given Snape for Valentines' Day, and would have given up much to avoid knowing. But he ended up getting detention with Snape in Potions after lunch. Ron had barely eaten during lunch, having no idea where to look and Lavender seemed to have caught his nerves by the time she got to class. But, of course, it was Harry who was scrubbing cauldrons after dinner. He only hoped that Ron was using his alone time with Hermione to make up for the rest of the day; he hoped Hermione was using it to get back at Ron for the rest of the last few months.

"Concentrate, Potter," Snape sneered at him from behind his pile of marking. "It is perhaps not the most pressing issue for the Wizarding world's saviour. But rest assured that I shall blame you for any mishap in any of classes for the rest of week if you do not scrub satisfactorily. And remember that I have second year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors first class tomorrow."

Harry scowled, but bent his head and started scrubbing so Snape wouldn't see, and wouldn't carry through on his threat. Harry had settled into the monotony of the detention and was a good way into a list of creative ways in which killing Snape could be a practical NEWT exam task when there was a sharp knock at the door.

Harry immediately reached for his wand and looked up. Snape's glare forced him to duck his head again, but he didn't resume work. Snape pulled the door open and froze.

The door was pushed further open. Buffy walked into the classroom, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Moonstone, sunflower roots, Willow reckons on Lethe's Bramble if you have some, all the healing potions you have, especially sanguineous ones. And, and, and…" She opened her eyes and looked around, searching something that would trigger her memory. "Damn it… oh, hi, Harry. We also need that one you used for the wards in the cellar but for unbounded boundaries. Willow said you would know…"

"I do," Snape said, but he did not move from beside the door; did not stop looking at her.

Buffy's concentration faltered a moment, "Did you get the chocolate?"

"I did. It was sufficiently bitter, thank you. What is happening?"

If the speed and desperation in Buffy's entrance hadn't put Harry on edge, the calm almost soothing tone in Snape question would have. There was no way he would have sounded soothing and calm except in the face of disaster.

"Giles was working off the Jewish calendar. We need the Christian ones. I will not die again."

Snape nodded once.

"Potter, run, tell Dumbledore I'll be gone some time. Buffy sit, it will take me a couple of minutes to collect everything. Run, Potter," Snape said, meeting Harry's eye with a glare before turning back to Buffy. "How long do we have?"

Harry didn't wait to hear Buffy's answer. He sprinted out of the Potions classroom, wand drawn to hex anyone who stopped him on the way. He reached the doors to Dumbledore's staircase and said "Sugar Quills," before he remembered that he didn't know what the password was.

The door opened and Harry sprinted up the stairs to the office. He rapped sharply on the office door and hopped around on one leg until he heard Dumbledore say 'come in.' Harry pushed the door open and took three strides into the room.

"They were using the wrong calendar, it is happening now. Professor Snape sent me from detention to tell you. Buffy came with a list of supplies she needed."

Dumbledore looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles for one quiet moment, in which Harry tried to look as believable and sincere as possible. Dumbledore stood up smoothly and crossed his office.

"Thank you, Harry," he said. Dumbledore took a small key out of the sleeve of his robe and knelt to unlock a cupboard. He pulled out a small jar and length of cloth, both of which is hid in his robes before standing up again.

"Follow me," he told Harry, and turned to the part of wall opposite the door Harry had come in through. The small key unlocked a small door and Dumbledore stepped through. Harry followed to find himself on a narrow ledge next to a deep dark hole. Dumbledore sat on the edge of the hole, his legs hanging into darkness.

"Wait ten seconds," he told Harry, and launched himself into the darkness.

Harry counted slowly to ten, before sliding himself into the hole without consideration. The ride was swift, and reasonably pleasant. Harry hoped there wasn't going to be another giant snake at the bottom of this ride; he'd really gone off them since last time.

Harry was spat out of the tunnel and onto the grass. Dumbledore's robes shimmered slightly in the moonlight. He bent to pull Harry to his feet and then set off briskly around the corner of the school to the main path towards Hogsmeade.

Snape and Buffy were on the path and paused when they saw Dumbledore approaching.

"Headmaster," Snape said, shortly. He glared at Harry, just for good measure.

Dumbledore took the jar from his robes and held it out to Snape. Snape shook his head once, but Dumbledore did not back down. Snape grabbed it, uncorked it and downed the contents with a grimace. Harry was struck by the intriguing thought that Dumbledore might be poisoning Snape. Snape's glare, though, didn't lose any of its potency.

"I don't think—" Snape began.

"Harry will serve the rest of his detention with me," Dumbledore said.

He took the cloth from his robes and passed it to Buffy.

"Take care of him, Miss Summers," Dumbledore said, ignoring the Snape now directed at him. "I need him back in one piece."

"I like him one piece, too," Buffy agreed brightly. "Take care, Harry. Thank you, Headmaster. Come on, Severus, I know you like to be early to these things."

With that, Buffy started along the path towards the village again. Snape spared Dumbledore one last focussed glare before hurrying after her. Harry watched them leave, his mouth open slightly, absolutely unsure of anything that was going on. But it was more than half way through the school year, so it was likely that there was a plot afoot against him.

"It's a little nippy out here, don't you think, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, because it seemed to be the answer the headmaster wanted.

"The House Elves prepared me a very nice pot of hot chocolate earlier this evening. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please," Harry said. He still felt a little dazed by the evening, but he followed the Headmaster back up to the main doors of the school and through the corridors to his office. He wondered what Buffy meant about dying again.


	7. Chapter Six

Disclaimers, etc, see part one

**Chapter Six**

Easter Saturday found Harry, who had been left alone at Hogwarts for the holidays, in Dumbledore's office. Dobby had woken him early and forced him to dress quickly. Harry was quite pleased to be out of his empty dormitory. The growing tension in the Wizarding world and the absence of any direct attack from Voldemort had convinced most people to go home for the holidays. Harry, for his own safety, was still at Hogwarts, despite any argument he had made to spend the two weeks with the Weasleys; at Number 12; or with Neville at the Slayer school.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, "I expect you to Portkey back from Grimmauld Place no later than six pm."

Harry scowled slightly; he really would have liked more than eight hours of holiday. However, given that Voldemort was out to kill him, eight hours really was a big enough risk. Besides Harry was fairly sure that arguing wouldn't do any good.

"Yes, sir," he said.

He was going to ask who it was who would meet him at the other end. He realised with relief, that Snape's role as a double agent would prevent him from executing that duty. While his choice would always be Remus, he shuddered to think it would be Moody; or Dung Fletcher, who would hardly be protection at all.

Dumbledore didn't allow him any chance to say what was on his mind. He took the piece of parchment which had been lying on his desk and held it out to Harry. Harry grasped it carefully. He hated Portkeys even without the nasty memories they invoked; it always felt as though his stomach was somewhere else when he arrived.

"Portus," Dumbledore cried, with a jab from his wand.

Harry forced a grin before the Portkey activated the invisible hook took him behind his navel. He swore he would stick to Muggle transport or his broom as much as possible, however boring it would be, and he did not include the Knight Bus in his definition of Muggle transportation.

When he stopped spinning and could open his eyes he was standing the kitchen in Sirius's parents' house. Remus was sitting at the table smiling at him.

Harry's smile felt more genuine as he took a seat at the table.

"Good Morning, Harry," Remus said.

"Morning," Harry said.

He blinked at the calmness with which Remus had greeted his somewhat shaky arrival, but was glad for the normalcy of the situation.

"Tea?"

"Please."

Remus poured Harry a cup and pushed the tray of condiments across the table for him. Harry added milk quietly and stirred. He blew on the tea as hard as he could without having it spill out of the cup, and took a cautious sip. Remus smiled at him.

"Lily could never drink cooling tea, either."

Harry smiled at that, glad as always for little snippets of information about his parents. He took another sip of almost-too-hot tea. Remus blew on his again and sighed. He sat silently, and Harry was thankful for the ease and quiet.

They drank their tea slowly, but eventually Remus drained the last of his, and stood.

"Come, Harry," he said. "We do have quite a bit to do today."

Harry placed his cup back on the table, stood, and shook his robes out.

"Where are we going?"

Diagon Alley was not particularly busy. It was still cold enough to keep most casual shoppers away, and there were no immediate celebrations to buy for, so Remus and Harry were able to walk reasonably relaxedly.

Harry didn't have a particular agenda for this shopping trip. In fact, apart from the two weeks he'd been alone in Diagon Alley, he'd never had a chance simply to browse shops, and it was quiet different having Remus with him. Remus was able to point out interesting things in windows Harry had dismissed, he seemed to know all the shops that sold strange and curious things in the lanes off Diagon Alley, and he could tell Harry that while the green dress robes suited him quite well, so did the blue, and that had been James's favourite colour.

The morning was spent exploring various strange contraptions, and lunch was spent at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry bought new casual robes, and found a new set of dress robes. By three they headed back into Muggle London; their shopping done.

Remus turned to Harry with a half smile on his lips, "What do you say to having afternoon tea? I know a great spot near Covent Garden."

Harry looked at Remus suspiciously. He didn't know Remus well enough to tell, but the look on his face reminded Harry of right before he shot the chewing gum up Peeves's nose. "All right, I guess it can't hurt," he said tentatively.

They took the tube to Covent Garden and Remus led the way from there to a small teahouse. Harry's appetite picked up when he caught sight of the scones popping with currants and clotted cream, and little iced cakes. After ordering what seemed a vast amount even to Harry, who was used to Ron's appetite, Remus settled them at a table near the window. Harry began to eat, while Remus glanced out of the window with suspicious frequency.

They had been eating for about fifteen minutes, without making much dent in the food, when Harry was startled by a firm tap on his shoulder. He spun around to find the mirthful face of Buffy before him. Harry heard Remus chuckling in the background. Harry turned back to glare at him.

"Why did this have to be a surprise? You know how I am about surprises, they usually turn into near death experiences."

Remus just smirked and held out his hand, into which Buffy grudgingly placed a galleon. "I told you he would catch on"

Buffy pouted, "I still say you must have given too much away". She paused to turn and smile blindingly at Harry. "Remus thought you might need some help choosing ordinary clothes, so here I am, Shoppergirl, no store too large, no wardrobe too dated."

Harry, still slightly stunned from the smile, looked apprehensively at the hot pink shirt Buffy was wearing, with a slogan on it Harry hoped he couldn't understand, and then at Remus, who hadn't been wearing shabby robes but tan trousers and a blue linen shirt open at the collar. "Er, no offence Buffy, but I think I would prefer Remus to help me, his clothing seems more, er, me."

Remus chuckled again at the look that appeared on Buffy's face. "You tell him, Buffy," he said.

"Harry, who do you think helped Remus to buy his clothing in the first place?" she asked. "His choice in clothing made Librarian Giles look hip, and can you really say that Tonks would help pick appropriate clothing for Remus?"

Harry, stunned with mental images of Remus in torn jeans with a fluorescent vinyl shirt and a dog collar, shuddered as Buffy sat down to devour the remaining food at the table. While she ate more food than Harry thought four Rons could eat, he just sat there staring at her, and at Remus, who seemed oblivious to the petite blond eating enough to rival the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

When she had finished Buffy looked up to see Harry staring at her; she blushed. "I had to take out a nest on the way here, and I didn't have time to stop off for a yoghurt."

Harry blinked, worked out that she was talking about Vampire slaying, and nodded.

"But we can go now," she said, "If you're ready." She turned to Remus, "What time do I have to have him back at HQ?"

"Dumbledore wants him back at the castle at six. But I can arrange a early supper for five o'clock if you've finished by then."

Buffy grinned. "Food is good," she said.

Harry looked at back at her, incredulous. "You just ate…" he said, unsure how to categorise the amount she had consumed. "Even Ron takes breaks from eating."

"That was Slayer eating," Buffy said. "Later it will be post-shopping exhaustion eating. Completely different stomach cavities."

"Like a cow," Remus said.

Buffy opened her mouth; obviously ready to remind Remus of the danger he was in making such comments around super strong hormonal females. But the mischievous spark in his eyes caused her to smile; it was a rare thing from Remus.

"I'll see you later," she told him firmly. "And you will feed me."

"Yes, ma'am," Remus said, smiling properly.

Buffy nodded to Harry, who hurried after her, glancing back once at Remus, who waved him on.

Shopping with Buffy was a new and extremely strange experience. Harry was dragged into one store after another, with no apparent system. The friendly person he knew as Buffy had vanished replaced by a scarily determined woman, who directed shop assistants with a steely glance, and denuded shops of their goods with relish. Harry simply followed her, taking off clothes and putting on others at her command.

In two and a half hours they hit nearly every shop between Covent Garden and Knightsbridge (Buffy had to stop at Harrods). Harry now had numerous shirts and tee shirts; four suits, including a dinner suit; several pairs of trousers; and more shoes than he had ever owned in his entire life. Buffy, however, was not satisfied with this, and firmly made Harry buy two sweaters, enough socks to make Dobby rabid with jealousy, various accessories and several pairs of boxer shorts. Buffy was quiet adamant about the last and Harry was very embarrassed to think that Buffy must have seen him in his underwear. Harry would have felt awkward at having bought so much, had Buffy not bought at least as much, without the excuse of a nonexistent wardrobe. Though from the sounds of her grumbling, a life of slaying was definitely hard on quality clothing.

Buffy carried most of the bags back towards to tube station, Harry had offered to carry more, but Buffy had shrugged him.

"Slayer strength is good for something," she said. "It's only when you leave the last shop that you realise how much you've bought."

Harry looked at all the bags of his clothes that Buffy was patiently lugging across London cobblestones.

"Oh, you deserve it," she said, interpreting his look. "You're going to have your photo taken after you save the world, you'll feel much better looking fashionable."

"I think I'm going to look beaten up," Harry said, remembering his last encounters with Voldemort.

"But fashionable nonetheless," Buffy insisted. "Be thankful you don't have to wear a skirt and high heels."

Buffy increased her pace, and Harry had to jog slightly to keep up. They made their way through the tube station, onto a train, and back out at Kings Cross. The day was much darker at five o'clock than it had been at two and Harry trusted Buffy to find her way to number twelve without thinking too hard about how many times she had been then and the possible reasons why.

The house reappeared in all its fading glory when Harry recited Dumbledore's old note in his head. Buffy followed him up the steps and silently through the corridor and down the stairs to the kitchen. Once there, however, she dropped the shopping bags with a thump and dropped herself into a chair.

"You promised me food, Remus," she called out.

Harry looked around the empty kitchen. There was no sign of any person, or of any food preparation. There was a muffled thump from the pantry in reply to Buffy's comment, and she seemed satisfied with that. Harry placed his bags carefully on the floor beside the ones Buffy had been carrying. He took a seat opposite Buffy, facing the pantry door, and waited for it open.

When it was finally pushed open, it revealed Severus Snape rather than Remus and Harry gulped. Snape seemed not to see him at all. He stalked to the back of Buffy's chair and bent to place a kiss on the side of her neck. She sighed happily and Snape kissed her again. Harry watched, too horrified to look away, as Snape's hand travelled from Buffy's shoulders out of sight and Buffy wriggled slightly.

Thankfully the back door opened before Harry could become too traumatised, and Remus coughed.

"I did not think you would engage in such behaviour in Harry's presence, Severus," Remus said. The mischievous glint was back in his eyes. Snape glared at him.

"I am doing what Buffy taught me to do," Snape replied. "I am ignoring him. Very soon I will go back to ignoring you."

"Less talking, more smoochies," Buffy said.

Snape bent back to neck and whispered in her ear. Buffy made noises that Harry had previously heard from Crookshanks. He tried very hard not think about what Snape might be saying.

"Oh, by Merlin, Potter," Snape snapped. "If you can't deal with my being involved with a woman, how are you ever going to find one for yourself? Longbottom's doing better than you. Do you really think you've got what it takes to defeat the Dark Lord?"

Harry gulped again.

"I have prepared supper," Remus said genially.

He pointed his wand at the table, and several platters of bread and cheese and ham and fish appeared. Snape glared at Remus again, as though the food were merely a means of distracting Snape from his attack on Harry. He couldn't do much, however, because food also distracted Buffy from his attentions and she filled her plate. Snape leant down and whispered something into Buffy's ear, something which made her shoot him a smouldering look and immediately start shovelling in food. Harry cringed. Remus took pity on him.

"I suggest you hurry up and finish Harry," Remus said kindly. "They only worse as time progresses. After a while it can become quite nauseating."

Snape turned to sneer at Remus, "Really, Lupin, I had no idea you were such a voyeur."

Remus smiled affably and shrugged. Harry decided that this was probably the best opportunity he would get to leave. He stood up quickly and went to gather his clothing. Buffy leapt up to hug him in farewell, and Remus shook his hand. Snape, of course, made no comment as Harry gripped the Portkey Dumbledore had made him and disappeared. As he departed through the nothingness Harry wondered why fate kept tormenting him like this. Voldemort was one thing, but Snape paired with the word smoochies was beyond his endurance.

The appeared again, woozy, in Dumbledore's office. Dobby was there, and immediately insisted on taking Harry's bags and packing his clothes into his trunk. Harry was too worn out to offer even a token protest. Dobby took the bags, leaving Harry alone with the Headmaster. Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Harry's pale face.

"How was your day, Harry?"

Harry blinked at him. "Fine," he said. "Just fine."


	8. Chapter Seven

Harry pressed himself flat against the trunk of one of the tree

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

b u Chapter Seven /u /b 

Harry pressed himself flat against the trunk of one of the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady, lest it give his position away. He debated the wisdom of casting a diversionary spell, but decided against the risk of it failing and drawing their attention. His adversaries were, after all, renowned for their stealth and acute senses. The group of giggling girls passed his hiding spot and continued towards Hogsmeade. Harry let out a sigh of relief and continued on his way to Hagrid's Hut, where he was meeting Ron and Hermione. He continued to look over his shoulder, just in case there were other girls following him.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, keen to leave Hargid's idea of morning tea and join the others in Hogsmeade. Harry had found it much easier to write to Buffy about his inevitable battle with Voldemort than it had been to talk to her, and in the six weeks since their shopping trip, they had actually begun to discuss tactics. Hermione, of course, had felt a little left out of the planning stage, and Ron wanted a say in where he was going to stand in the battle, so they were going to hold a council.

Harry managed to wave off Hagrid's offer of tea with the excuse that they were running late, and promised to visit one evening soon. Hermione and Ron tailed after him as he headed along the path into the village.

"Where are going?" Ron asked.

"Just outside the school gates," Harry said. "Buffy wanted to meet outside the grounds, because she's bringing some friends, or something. Have you seen Neville?"

"Is that him there?" Hermione asked, pointing.

It was Neville, down the hill in front of them, part of the line of students walking away from the school. They began to jog slightly to catch up with him, and reached the school gates just as Buffy appeared over the rise from Hogsmeade.

Buffy was leading a group of maybe five people, one of whom detached herself from the group and sprinted towards the school. Her long hair flowed behind her, and the sun glinted off her shiny red pants. Most of the students stopped to stare at her as she ran past, most of the boys ogling her, and the girls glaring. Neville froze.

She ran straight towards him, and the others stepped back to see what would happen. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in a perfect position to watch as she grabbed Neville and pushed him back against the school fence. Hermione immediately stepped forward to defend him, and Harry thrust an arm out to stop her.

"It's Melissa," he said.

The statement made much more sense when, instead of socking him, Melissa grabbed a hold of Neville and kissed him. There were catcalls from a few of the girls nearby, while others just stared in shock at the scene.

"Neville?" Harry heard one girl ask, in obvious disbelief, while her friend nodded, too overcome to actually speak. Harry grinned winningly at them.

They were too focused on the scene to notice him and the speechless one gasped. Harry turned back to see Neville push Melissa away far enough to dip her backwards. She came up grinning, but still blushed when she noticed the attention they were receiving. She wasn't blushing nearly as hard as Neville was by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione met up with the others. Hermione was watching the scene with academic satisfaction, like she had answered an obscure problem in Transfiguration.

"I always wondered what other talents Neville's clumsy exterior housed," she said smugly.

Harry turned to watch the show, as Ron, spluttering and turning purple in the face, rounded on her. Ron gapped for a couple of moments before he found his objection.

"And what talents have you been imagining Neville has?" he demanded.

"I wasn't specifically imagining things, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "I said I had wondered."

"Wondered about Neville shagging people?"

"Really, Ron, must you be so crude? I was merely pointing out that Neville carried off a movie style kiss quite well. There are few people who can do that; it takes real sensitivity of timing and body. Thinking of sex, though, I wouldn't. I mean, Melissa's still a girl, really. A mature woman needs something more than that, someone like Buffy, for instant, must look for…"

She trailed off as Ron's expression became once again quite strangled. Harry had to admire the depth of skill Hermione was employing against Ron, but hoped for his friend's sake that she would make her intentions clear. Ron cast a desperate look Harry, who took another step back. He shook his head, refusing to get between Hermione and Ron in such arguments.

Ron was saved further assault by the arrival of Buffy and her followers. The group consisted of Melissa and two other young women in tight clothes. With them were two men, and older one in a suit and younger one in work clothes and an eye patch. The older man examined the three of them in a detached way, while the younger one offered them his hand.

"Xander Harris," he said.

Harry shook hands with him, grinning in reply.

There was a gasp from the girls behind and Harry turned.

"Xander?" one of the repeated. "Like, from that book?"

Xander grinned at them, and they giggled. He rolled his eye at them, and turned back to offer his hand to Hermione. She shook hands with him, blushing, and managed to mumble her name. Xander looked over his shoulder to Buffy.

"This is his Willow, yeah? Pre-Tara or post-Tara?"

Buffy laughed in affirmation. "Before Oz, actually, although not as timid," she said. "He's there, he just hasn't worked it out yet."

Hermione released Xander's hand and took a breath to speak up.

"As the topic of this conversation, would it be okay if I understood it?"

"You'll just have to read the other books," Buffy said.

"Buffy Summers, consummate author," Giles said. "Your years of book-shy high school student are long behind you."

"I used to read i interesting /i books, they just happened to be completely different from the ones you think are interesting." Buffy insisted. She glanced around the group, "Harry, Hermione, Ron, Xander, Sarah, Carla, Giles," she said, pointing to each person in turn.

"Neville and Melissa will be joining us shortly, I hope," she added. "We can go up to the school, now, and get started."

"What exactly are we doing?" Ron asked.

"Well, I'd tell you, but then I'd have kill you," Buffy said.

Ron started at her, gulping noisily. Buffy just rolled her eyes.

"Plotting the downfall of the evil, and the inevitable heroics of the righteous," Giles said. "It tends to lead to fewer problems, and a lesser chance of being knocked on the head."

"You were trying to get in the way of a prophecy," Buffy said.

"You'd quit," Giles replied defensively.

"Okay, then, school," Ron said, nodding.

He started walking, and others followed him across the grounds. Buffy stopped as though something had just occurred to her.

"Should I go get Severus?" Buffy asked. "We couldn't tell him what time we were going to arrive."

She dashed off toward the school before Xander could do as much as smirk at her. The others kept walking, not noticing the wink Buffy threw at Harry. Harry shivered, and Xander clapped him on the back in support. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry.

"Really, Harry, you're imagining things," she insisted. "Buffy is an intelligent, rational, and attractive young woman."

She caught the smug look on Ron's face. "She'd never really appreciate the dark allure of a man like Severus Snape," she continued.

Ron turned slightly green. Xander looked admiringly at Hermione. He seemed about to say something, but Harry just shook his head and Xander grinned in understanding.

"That's the best piece of misdirection of its kind since Buffy distracted Giles by telling him Ms Calendar thought he was a babe."

"How did you hear that story?" Giles demanded.

"It's in the book," Xander said, with a shrug.

He turned away from Giles's resigned look and asked Hermione a question about the wood her wand was made from and they continued towards the school. Ron shot a couple of dirty looks at Harry and Hermione, and muttered that he was hardly that stupid.

The walk up to the Room of Requirement was calm and relatively quiet. Hermione, on learning that Rupert Giles was i the /i R. E. Giles who had written a ground breaking essay on differential translation of dead mystical languages and their modern equivalents, had attached herself to him like a limpet. Harry overheard them discussing a Sumerian transition language used by high priests, and wondered if Mr Giles realised what he had gotten himself into. Now that Hermione had found an ostensibly affable expert in a field of interest, there was no way she was letting go.

The two Slayers, Sarah and Carla, found Harry and began asking him questions about the stresses of being the Chosen One. For the first time in his life, Harry really didn't mind the attention. Ron found himself in step with Xander and they struck up an eager conversation about the comparative merits of i The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle /i and i X-Men /i , which broke off only when they reached the seventh floor corridor.

Harry looked around as he entered the room. Several key members of the Order were already there: Arthur Weasley, who waved to Ron; Kingsley Shacklebolt; Alastor Moody, his magical eye trained on the Slayers' movements; Remus Lupin, looking very well; and Tonks, with purple and green spiked hair. Dumbledore was seated at the end of the table with Fawkes perched on the back of his chair. Harry wondered if the bird anticipating bloodshed in this meeting, and if so, from whose.

Neville and Melissa arrived behind Harry, holding hands, and quietly took places at the table. There was suddenly yelling from the corridor, and Harry winced. He caught Neville's eye, and they both grimaced. The yelling meant either Snape was going to be in an absolutely filthy mood, and would most likely take it out on his two favourite sitting targets, namely Harry and Neville; or that Buffy and Snape were indulging in their bizarre foreplay and would likely be engaged in Activities soon. Harry wasn't sure which was worse, the verbal or the psychological abuse.

It took several minutes for them to make it to the room, enough time for several knowing and amused glances from the gathered company, or confused and worried ones from Hermione and Ron. Buffy stalked in and took a seat next to Remus. Snape glared indiscriminately around the room and he sat down opposite her.

"Right, so we can get started now," Xander said, half sigh, half smile.

They went around the table and introduced themselves. Giles gave a run down of the situation from the Scoobies' point of view, and Moody related what the Order knew.

"Let me get this straight," Buffy interrupted him, "You had a partially dead megalomaniac with an immortality obsession, a history of the dark arts, and a penchant for reanimating the dead, and nobody thought to cremate the remains of his blood relatives?"

Her question was met with silence. One by one the Order members looked sheepishly at their neighbours. Finally Dumbledore spoke.

"In our defence, my dear, it was not a thing we wished to contemplate. Necromancy is one of the greatest evils known to us, and Tom never got further than the creation of murderous inferii."

Buffy snorted, "I'll leave this one up to you and Giles, now, Xander."

Xander cleared his throat ponderously.

"Leaving bones lying around is like sending them an engraved invitation to resurrection. You have to know how to the kill bad guys so they can't come back."

He scowled at them. "We knew better by the time we were 17," he added, sounding petulant. "And we didn't have anything like your organization,"

Giles started cleaning his glasses, an amused smile twitching at his lips at the outraged faces around the table.

"I think Xander was trying to convey the overall importance of limiting Voldemort's options. By leaving the graveyard in the state it was, he did not need to work particularly hard to create himself a habitable body. I think one of our first courses of action is to destroy what remains of the spell he used, burn the bones, et cetera."

"Destroy the artefacts would weaken the resulting objects?" Hermione asked. She looked excited, and as though she would have liked several books to cross-reference.

"There is very little precedent for making them stronger," Giles said slowly. He glanced Dumbledore for verification. Dumbledore nodded. "Never in resurrection or necromancy," he said. "The magic itself is so unstable, the results can't hold it all in themselves."

"That would just destroy the body, though, not whatever he had before?" Sarah asked, worriedly.

"Not even that," Giles admitted. "It will weaken the body itself, and the ties to this reality. But he'll still be as he is now. Just easier to kill."

"That's nice," Harry said, brightly.

"So we're agreed?" Xander asked. "We find these bones and grind them down to make our bread? Although not literally, because that would be gross."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to grin. But he kept his composure as he said, "Yes. We will need to work on details. But that is the plan."

"And what about this rat guy?" Buffy asked.

There was an uncomfortable pause, while Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced worried at each other and then at Remus. Remus smiled, very grim, with narrowed eyes.

"I'll take care of that," Remus said, voice soft but certain.

Buffy turned to him, fanning herself. "I do like it when men take charge," she simpered, affecting a southern accent.

Remus blinked at her, trying not to grin. Tonks, sitting on his other side, did grin and wrapped her hands around his arm. She leant forward and whispered something his ear that made him blush. Harry risked a brief glance at Snape. He expected him to be glaring at Buffy, but Snape was smirking, obviously enjoying Remus's discomfort.

Hermione nudged Harry.

"I thought you said they were together?" Hermione said.

Harry just shrugged and rolled his eyes. He didn't want to consider what Snape might make of Buffy's comments, or what Tonks may have whispered to Remus. Instead he concentrated on all the boring details in the rest of the meeting as they worked out the specifics of their plan to go after Tom Riddle Senior's bones.

They made agreements to meet two weeks later, days before the full moon, in order to undertake their operation. Harry was to be there because he knew the cemetery; and Snape because he could tell if Voldemort was near; Buffy for protection; and Giles to perform the ritual itself. Hermione insisted on going as well for the experience, and Ron refused to be left behind.

"Okay, that's enough," Dumbledore said. "Does anyone else want to go?"

Remus raised his hand. "I can see, and smell," he said. "And if we know that Peter was there…"

Dumbledore nodded, understanding the implications of Remus's determination to go after his former friend. "Eight is more than enough if you keep your wits about you. Meet here, Friday in two weeks, 6 pm. You can eat here before you go. And that is all, I think."

When no one disagreed with him, Dumbledore stood, bowed to the gathered company and left the room. Slowly everyone else began to get up and find other things to talk about. Buffy and her friends were set to leave and began to say their goodbyes. Hermione made Giles promise to send her a couple of the books he had mentioned. Ron and Xander agreed to bring their comic books to next meeting to compare the different styles.

Harry sat silently at the table, glad to have been spared more traumatic evidence of Snape and Buffy's relationship, and beginning to psych himself up for a second trip to that graveyard.

**Page 7**


	9. Chapter Eight

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

Chapter Eight 

The Graveyard: Part One.

It was a beautiful evening. One made for romance and intimate walks, proposals and declarations. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a forties musical or an evening stroll with an invisible orchestra as back up to a secret lovers' tryst.

Moonlight flickered off a pool of water and the stone statues had taken on a silver gleam. A beautiful aroma wafted from the roses and the night blooming jasmine someone had planted in remembrance of someone else, filling the air with a heady sent. In the nearby thicket of birches, a pair of nightingales serenaded. The weather was perfect. It was neither too cold nor to warm; comfortable for an evening stroll.

In Harry's opinion that was just plain nasty. They were in one of the most dark-magic steeped areas in England—the place of the horrifying rebirth of Voldemort—and the cemetery of Little Hangleton was audacious enough to be acting as though it were nothing more sinister than a theme park devoted to romance. Harry pointed in the direction of Tom Riddle senior's grave as they passed under the archway.

Buffy strode ahead through the cemetery, swinging her sledgehammer like it was an umbrella in Singing in the Rain. Harry really hoped that no one started singing. Ron, walking on Hermione's other side from Harry, leant across to catch Harry's eye.

"This is really creepy, mate," he said, he didn't sound sarcastic, but he was grinning.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It was worse last time," he said, darkly.

Hermione glanced sideways, checking Harry's reaction to everything and decided that it was best to change the subject.

"Did you see what Severus was wearing?" she asked, with just the hint of wistfulness in her voice.

Harry heard Ron choke and had to suppress a grin. He wasn't sure Hermione even knew, but any mention of Snape got a nasty reaction from Ron, now. He'd left dinner without having a second helping just last week after Seamus asked to borrow his Potions notes.

They wound their way through the grave plots towards the central part set aside for the Riddles. It had not changed in the three years since Harry had last been there: two headstones had been broken by the random curses they had sent after him and the ground was scorched from the dome that had formed over the Priori Incantatem. Harry lost the desire to grin.

Before the central plot there was a pine tree with a seat at the bottom. Harry dropped onto the bench to survey the scene. Ron sat beside him, but Hermione walked forward to read the headstones. She had a notebook with her, and began writing furiously.

"Do you reckon she wants to write a book, too?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. Ron didn't sound pleased at the prospect, and Harry had to agree with the sentiment. He wondered, if Hermione were to write a book, just how much of him would be in it. He shuddered, remembering the conversations about Cho. But then he was distracted by Buffy, who had found Tom Riddle's headstone and perched on it, leather clad legs swinging.

"Who's digging?" she asked.

Giles and Snape were carrying the shovels and they had brief wordless argument over who was going to dig where. Giles took the feet. Severus took off his cloak and draped it over the headstone before starting at the head of the grave, beside Buffy. Under his cloak his was wearing a loose cotton shirt and a pair of black trousers. Harry stared for a moment before giving up thinking about Snape, and looked at Ron. Ron was staring at Hermione, looking kind of lost and desperate at Hermione's appraisal of Snape in relatively revealing clothes.

Remus approached the bench quietly, listening and watching for anything strange. He took the place on the other side Ron, and followed Ron's gaze to Hermione.

"You have to make a move," Remus said. He sounded detached, but firm, and he didn't stop watching their surroundings.

"What?" Ron asked. Harry thought he was trying to sound confused, but he couldn't pull it off.

Remus nodded gestured to Hermione. "She'll only try for so long to make you jealous. You need to make your move."

Ron didn't try to deny it. The look he turned on Remus was eager.

"Make me jealous? You're sure?"

Remus grinned, without pausing his scan of their surrounds. "She using Snape," he said. "Given his politics, there's no way she's serious, regardless of his physical attractiveness. Which is none, by the way," he added, with the faintest amused grin.

Ron nodded. He might even come to believe it, Harry thought. They were thankfully distracted from Ron's emotional dimwittedness by a shout from Snape. Snape had stopped digging and crossed his arms.

"Have you reached it, yet?" Hermione asked. Harry briefly wondered if her overwhelming desire to learn new things was a pathological condition; it could not be healthy to be that excited about grave-robbing.

Giles said, "No," quite darkly, still shovelling dirt from the grave. He was glaring at Buffy, who smirked.

In a flash Harry thought he knew exactly what had caused Snape to jump. Ron thought that Buffy some kind of hero for merely kicking Snape. Harry didn't have the heart to tell Ron that Buffy hadn't used her feet; he glared at her, instead. Buffy, however, was watching Snape. Snape turned to her, putting on the haughty Potions Master look that had so scared Neville.

"Kindly keep your appendages to yourself," he said.

Buffy grinned. "If you really want me to," she said, with faux sweetness.

"Buffy, please let Severus dig," Giles said. "We're almost there."

Snape turned his back on Buffy and resumed digging. Hermione crept closer to Giles. Ron shifted uncomfortably. Harry agreed that digging up a coffin was not something to be eager for, even though it was their stated purpose. Harry was beginning to remember the last time he had seen any of Tom Riddle senior's bones.

Before Harry's thoughts could be come too maudlin, there came the hollow sound of metal hitting wood, and a clap of delight from Buffy. Hermione took another step closer, standing right on the end of the re-dug grave. Harry and Ron also crept closer, although Remus stayed on the bench, carefully scanning the rest of the scenery.

Snape leant the shovel against the gravestone and took a step back from the grave. He carefully brushed the dirt from his trousers and straightened his cuff. He held his hand out and Buffy passed him in cloak. With perfunctory melodrama, he swirled it around his shoulders.

"Weasley, you can lift the casket," Snape announced.

Giles scowled at Snape, as he climbed into the grave himself. Then he looked up at Buffy, still sitting on the gravestone with her legs crossed and relaxed smile.

"Why aren't you doing this, Buffy?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I do the dying to save to world, and you dig up the bodies. Vampires tend to climb out on their own. Besides, I've just had a manicure."

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes and bent to pick up one end of the coffin. Ron climbed into the grave at the other end and between the two of them they lifted Tom Riddle senior's rotting coffin on the grass. The lid was broken where the bone had come through for the original spell, and Harry shivered seeing the splinters of wood.

'Please let this be over soon,' he thought.

They fell naturally into a loose circle around the coffin. Ron stood beside Harry, casting furtive glances at him that Harry tried his best to ignore. Hermione was taking notes and peering closely at the coffin. She glanced up at Harry questioningly, but saw the blanched look on his face and didn't say anything. It looked innocuous; just an old wooden box with a hole in the lid.

Giles kicked the end of the coffin. The sound made Harry leap in the skin. Ron drew his wand.

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley," Snape snapped.

Ron flushed and looked at his feet. So he missed the angry scowl Hermione shot at Snape, and the encouraging one she turned on Ron. Harry was relieved by the both the evidence that Hermione really did care more for Ron than Snape, and the familiarity of Snape's biting tone.

"Any magic we use on the bones will strengthen the Dark Lord."

"Then how are we going to break them up?" Ron asked, examining the coffin sceptically.

Buffy swung herself gracefully off her perch and picked up the sledgehammer leaning against it in one movement. She hefted the hammer easily, twirling it between her hands like a baton. She caught Harry's surprised look and grinned.

"I trained as a cheerleader," she said.

Her grin dropped as she glanced back at the coffin, and Harry was forced once more to think about why they were there. Remus was the only one not paying attention as Buffy swung the sledgehammer and brought it down in the middle of the lid. There was an explosion of dirt and bugs and dust. Ron immediately took three steps backwards. Hermione coughed, but peered closer.

"Careful," Buffy said, raising the sledgehammer to her shoulder again.

Buffy glanced sideways at Giles. "Would you like to do this bit, too?" she asked, with a smirk.

Giles shot her a withering glance before he waved his hand easily. "No, please, you go ahead," he said.

Buffy grinned and brought the sledgehammer down again. There was a sickening crunch as it hit what was left of the ribcage. Harry couldn't look away as Buffy rained blows on the ancient skeleton. Ron was still paces behind him. Snape had his arms crossed, and was watching Buffy's movements with an intensity that would make even the new Neville Longbottom quail.

Harry lost track of time and count of the number of strikes. He was caught up simply watching the arc, the rise and fall, of the hammer. Until Buffy's rhythm began to slow and she began to pick particular places to land a blow. Eventually they were left standing around a pile of dust and splinters of wood.

"It's really over," Harry said.

"This bit," Giles said. "We still need to find, ah, Peter, isn't it? and then Voldemort himself. We need to make sure we can find him before he realises that he is weaker than before."

"Yeah, okay," Ron said. "Spoil the moment."

Ron sounded distracted, though. He was watching Buffy, who wiped the sheen of sweet of her forehead. Buffy stepped back and reached for her bag. She pulled something out and crouched down by the powdered bones. It turned out she was holding a small jar, and she scooped up a couple of handfuls of dust and poured then into the jar. She screwed the lid on tightly.

She presented it to Snape with a mocking curtsey. He raised an eyebrow.

"You've already got so many ookey things in jars. I though this would be a nice addition."

"Thank you," Snape said, accepting the jar reluctantly.

But he looked as though he were almost smiling. He handled the jar gingerly, but he pocked it immediately in an inside pocket.

"So, we're done?" Buffy asked, looking at Giles.

Giles smiled. "I think we're done," he said.

"It was very interesting," Hermione butted in. "To think of the law of magical similarities being put into practice like this is fascinating. There is an article on something similar in one of the folios in the school library. I think I could develop a thesis from this." She stopped abruptly and changed topics. "And Buffy, your skill in that, I remember that you'd done it once before."

Buffy shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "Have sledgehammer, will travel."

There was a moment of silence as the uncomfortableness of the cemetery reasserted itself after their rush of activity. The night was no less pleasant than it had been, but the open grave and the pile of dust were somewhat eerie. Harry was pleased that it had begun to feel like he remembered, and did not want to stay any longer than they had to.

Snape waved his wand and the piles of grave dirt slid back in to the hole until the gave itself looked untouched. Ron kicked the ground moodily, but said nothing. Snape looked smug enough already.

Hermione folded her notes reluctantly. Harry turned at last for the gate, in time to see Remus spring to his feet and march off in the wrong direction.

"Hey," Harry tried to call out, but Remus did not turn around, or even raise his hand to show that he had heard. He had his wand out and was tracking something through the grass.

'Bugger,' Harry thought. He punched Ron and pointed after Remus.

Ron swore as well and pulled out his wand. Harry took a deep breath, and together they run after Remus. Harry wondered if the cemetery was a natural place for bad things to happen, or whether it was just him.


	10. Chapter Nine

Disclaimers, etc, part one.

**Chapter Nine**

The Graveyard: Part Two

Remus made no noise as he stalked into the lengthening grass. Following him, Harry and Ron made every effort to be just as quiet. When Remus froze, they did too, still metres behind him. In one movement, Remus pulled his wand from his robe and cast a spell into the grass. There was a burst of light, and when Harry blinked away the glare, Wormtail was cowering at Remus feet.

Harry and Ron immediately stepped close enough to hear him, and the others were approaching as well, cautiously. Snape was staying back with Buffy, watching the edges. Hermione was far on the other side of Ron, creeping forward to get behind Wormtail.

"Please, Remus, please. Don't kill me, Moony," Wormtail was mumbling, over and over again.

Remus's voice was cold and resolute when he asked, "Why are you here, Peter?"

Wormtail wrung his hands and didn't look above Remus's shoes. Harry crept forward, not liking the sly gleam in Wormtail's eyes. Ron took a hesitant step forward to stand beside Harry.

"I wasn't going to do anything, Moony, please. I just had to watch. I just have to watch. 'Don't hurt anyone, just watch.'"

"And then tell Voldemort what we were doing, I presume?"

"You don't understand," Wormtail wailed. "I don't want to hurt Harry, I never wanted to hurt Harry. But He was too strong, and He knows so much. I have to."

"Have to what? abandon your friends. Betray their trust in you. I warned you once what would happen. Sirius spent a year back in his parents' house, because you wouldn't admit to what you'd done. Did you think you I would let you go again?"

Harry could feel the anger in Remus, and the rage he was directing at Wormtail, even from three paces back. But he could also see the shift in Wormtail's eyes. Remus was focussed so much on his hatred for his one time friend, that didn't see what happened next. In a blink Wormtail was gone, a rat again. He appeared, human, behind Hermione, grabbing her neck with his silver hand, his wand trained on Remus.

Harry did not have a chance to shout a warning, Hermione did not have a chance to reach for her wand, and Ron did not think before he sent a stunning spell at Wormtail. Hermione rolled away and was back on her feet, wand in her hand, with an ease that surprised even her. Wormtail looked slightly ridiculous sprawled on the ground with his battered robes and strange hand. Buffy came up beside Harry, obviously wary about Peter. Remus had no such hesitation. He had his wand trained at Wormtail's chest and walked up and kicked Wormtail hard in the side.

Wormtail's body did not move. Harry had the sudden fearful thought that Ron had killed him. Remus's appreciative nod to Ron did not seem to contradict that theory. But Remus steadied his wand and said 'enerverate', in a very cold voice. Wormtail jerked awake and immediately began crying again.

"Shut up," Remus said in the same flat tone of voice.

"What can you tell us?" Remus asked. "We want to kill Voldemort; how can you help us?"

Wormtail shook his head and wrung his hands. Harry couldn't tell whether he had nothing to say, or simply didn't want to say anything. He looked around for Snape, who would be able to intimidate their prisoner. Snape was standing way back in the shadows, out of Wormtail's sight. Giles, too, had stepped away. Buffy was simply watching Remus, a strange mixture of sympathy and regret on her face. Harry shook off that question of had happened in Buffy's past, and forced himself to focus on Wormtail.

Wormtail had begun whimpering. Slowly under Remus's intense, silent watchfulness, he began to actually speak again. He told them how he had been sent here; how he had been instructed to guard the mansion; how he wasn't supposed to and had never wanted ever to hurt anyone; how he had never meant it; how he was tied to You-Know-Who now and couldn't escape; how You-Know-Who hurt him even from Ceredigion; how they couldn't think it was really his fault.

Harry's fist clenched white around his wand, and he forced himself not to aim it at Wormtail before they got any information out of him. Wormtail was cowering closer and closer against the ground, and his words became less and coherent as he began to mutter to himself, eyes flickering like a cornered animal.

"You-Know-Who is far too powerful, he was becoming too powerful. I was never strong enough, you know how it was Remus, and no one trusted anyone else, Sirius should never have trusted me, and if he'd told you—James and Lily, they were stupid to think that they could survive like that."

Remus glanced away, unable to watch the expression on Wormtail's face. In that moment Wormtail leapt forward and wrapped his hands around Remus's throat. Hermione shouted too late for a warning, and Buffy swore. Remus dropped his wand to drag at Wormtail's wrists, to no avail. Remus's face twisted in pain, and Harry realised in horror that Wormtail's hand really was silver. An angry welt burnt into Remus's neck and Remus began to fight desperately, for his own life now.

Harry finally raised his wand. But before he managed to cast a spell that might be useful to Remus in the vicious fight, there was a sickening sound, and Harry's mind blanked for a moment. When he focused again on the scene in front of him, Wormtail was lying on the ground and Buffy was kneeling beside him.

"He's dead," Remus said.

Remus bent to retrieve his wand from his feet. Harry looked from the welt on Remus's neck, to Wormtail and back to Remus's hands, and he felt sick. Remus squatted on the ground, staring at his hands and looking as a sick as Harry felt. Buffy checked Wormtail's body with professional disinterest, and Giles stepped forward and leant to talk to Remus.

"He was your friend."

"Once upon a time."

"It doesn't matter how long ago you stopped being friends. When you— when you have to…. It's the history that matters."

Harry looked away from the anguish on both their faces. There was nothing in the dreary cemetery that could distract his mind. Snape was standing, unmoving, four paces behind Buffy. His dark cloak blended ominously with the shadows of the trees.

Harry attention was suddenly caught was the flash of Ron's hair of the corner of his eye. Harry turned to call for his friend, but stopped to watch as Ron reached out a hand to pat Hermione on the shoulder. Hermione flung her arms around Ron, and Ron automatically wrapped his arms around her. He looked startled and when he caught Harry's eye, Harry grinned at him.

Ron glanced back down at the top of Hermione's head, obviously unsure how to deal with the sudden intimacy. Harry walked past the quite group around Wormtail's body and under Snape's watchful glare to stand not quite next to Ron. Ron slowly pulled away from Hermione and bent to press a kiss to her hair. Hermione looked up, her eyes dry and wide. Ron pressed a kiss to her cheek before he pulled back to include Harry in a half circle. Hermione didn't move her arm from around Ron's waist, though, and she was blushing.

"Harry," she said, blushing darker.

Harry smiled briefly in reply. Ron took an awkward step backwards, pulling out of Hermione's embrace. Harry glared at Ron, trying to make his point without saying anything. Ron's brow furrowed in confusion. Harry wondered if strangling Ron would him out of his misery, but decided that in Hermione's interest, he stop at punching Ron on the arm and gesturing at Hermione. Hermione looked torn between trying not to laugh and trying not to throttle him herself.

"I, ah," Ron started. Harry nodded encouragingly.

"Hermione, I just wanted to say, I, ah, I care about you."

Hermione broke into a grin. "I care about you to, Ron," she said.

Harry cheered silently, glad that the saga was now over.

"No, I mean, I em really /em care about you."

Harry closed his eyes against the frustration.

"I really care about you, too, Ron," Hermione told him, obviously suppressing laughter. "I mean, really."

She reached out to grip his wrist. Ron looked down at her hand, then back up at her face.

"Oh," he said.

Harry turned away, grinning madly to himself. Ron learnt down and pressed a brief kiss to Hermione's lips.

"Very good, Ron," she said.

"You're mad," Ron said. "Stark raving mad."

"Yes," Hermione agreed happily.

Harry turned back to them. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes," Snape's voice cut through the pleasant interlude. "I hate to interrupt this episode of the Days of Your Lives, but we are leaving now."

Snape ushered the three of them back towards the main group. Buffy and Giles had buried Wormtail in Tom Riddle Snr's grave. Buffy was patting down the earth, while Giles stood at the foot and spoke quietly in Latin. Remus was sitting on the ground, his hands around his knees.

Snape stood over him, crossing his arms. "Get up, Lupin, we have to leave."

Remus looked up at him blandly.

"We don't know where to go," Buffy said. "We never got any information out of Wormtail in the end."

"Yes, we did," Remus said. He pushed himself to his feet, looking years older than Harry had ever seen him. "I know where we have to go."

Hermione opened her month to ask, but Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her back. From the haunted look on Remus's face, Harry almost wished they hadn't learnt anything after all.

Remus led the way out through the silent gravestones. No one said anything until they were once again outside. The night air on the road that leads to the village reminded Harry of the pleasantness that had assaulted him earlier in the evening. Remus struck out ahead, Harry followed, silent, just a couple of paces behind him. Behind them, the others were starting to talk again. Hermione was whispering excitedly to Ron, punctuated but the occasional quickly stifled laugh. Snape was murmuring things to Buffy, who was asking question of Giles. Harry tuned them all out, worrying about the tension in Remus's shoulders.

They walked passed the village and out into an open area of land. Dumbledore had created a Portkey to take them all back from the cemetery to Hogwarts. They gathered quickly around the long piece of rope. It was charmed to activate every fifteen minutes until dawn. Remus checked his watch.

"We have about a minute," he announced.

Everyone bent to pick up the rope, and they stood awkwardly as the time ticked down to the uncomfortable tug. Harry closed his eyes against the swirling vortex, in the hope that this time he would feel less nauseous. He opened his eyes again in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. he looked as though he had been waiting for them, but he was wearing a blue dressing gown over orange and purple pyjamas, accompanied by a yellow nightcap and matching slippers. Harry wondered if the stripes were supposed to pulse like that, and looked away, before his eyes were permanently damaged.

One of the silver implements on Dumbledore's shelf was spurting pale green smoke, and Harry concentrated on that instead. Buffy seemed equally startled by Dumbledore's wardrobe.

"I so have to take him shopping, one day," she said.

Snape snorted. "I'd actually pay to see that," he said.

Harry could hear the smirk in Buffy's voice when she asked, "How much?"

"It was a successful mission, then? Dumbledore asked.

"Wormtail's dead," Remus said, overriding Giles's simple, "yes."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said. "Please tell me how."

"I broke his neck," Remus said, in the same flat voice.

He rubbed his neck where the burns were already beginning to fade. The office was crowded with seven people in, and it was more crowded when Dumbledore rang for a House-Elf to bring to ice for Remus's neck and some form of food and warm drink for everyone. They all tried to find a place to sit in the now-crowded office. Harry managed to claim the seat beside Remus. Hermione and Ron squashed into a large armchair beside him, and Buffy ended up perched on the arm of Snape's chair, earning her concerned glances from Hermione.

When everyone at last had the heated beverage of their choice and a biscuit, Giles told Dumbledore everything that had happened at the cemetery. Remus interrupted to tell them how he had sensed Wormtail and trailed him, but Giles related the rest. Harry was impressed by his dry recitation.

Buffy was making mocking faces that Giles couldn't see, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. The dark expression on Remus's face helped him.

Finally they reached the end of the account. Dumbledore looked very grave.

"I see," he said. "So you achieved the stated mission, but were unable to use Wormtail's unfortunate presence to our advantage."

"That's right," Giles said.

"No," Remus said, sharply. Everyone turned to look at him and he swallowed. "He told us where Voldemort is. 'He can reach my mind even from Ceredigion,' he said."

Harry didn't think that Dumbledore could look more grave, but his face fell at Remus's news. Hermione shifted in her seat, causing Ron yelp.

"But that's a whole county in Wales," she said. "And we were already sure that he was relatively close."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "But Voldemort has a distinct flare for the dramatic, Miss Granger. I assure you, if he is in the Desert of Wales, we know exactly where he is."

"So where?" Harry demanded.

It was Remus who answered, very quietly, but clearly heard. "Godric's Hollow."


	11. Chapter Ten

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

Please accept our apologies for the massive delays.

**Chapter Ten**

This was not how he expected it to happen. Harry had always thought that when he returned to Godric's Hollow he would accompanied by his friends to visit his parents graves; something pensive and reverential. He hadn't expected to be sneaking up in what amounted to camouflage gear, ready to battle Death Eaters and Voldemort, with a couple of dozen of people he didn't know. Fate definitely had a well developed sense of irony.

Harry wasn't sure which team Buffy was supposed to be with. But he supposed it was possible that she wasn't with any team at all, and had simply come along for a bit of fun. Harry chose not to consider how going up against a megalomaniacal super villain who was not directly threatening her, and enjoyed throwing around killing curses like confetti, was fun. It made her ideas of what was not fun way too dark to contemplate.

Time stretched out as they were waiting for the signal to go in. Harry's thoughts were drawn naturally to his parents. This was the house that he had been born in, where he would have grown up, and crouching in the bushes across the lane from the front garden was not how he was suppose to have returned. He wondered how close his parents were buried.

Harry was forced back into the present but a sudden loud noise, like a gong. That was the signal that the first team had taken down the wards and it was time for Harry, with Ron and Hermione beside him, to get into the house.

They went through the front door, which opened into a hall. There were still cloaks on the stands, covered in dust and ash.

Harry did not pause to look around. Hermione pointed at the doors into what must be the living room and Ron stepped forward to show that he was going to going in front of her. Harry waved them both back. He blasted the doors open with his wand.

Voldemort had turned the living room into a war chamber. The furniture was still there, but Harry could not see how it might have been arranged. Snape was standing beside Voldemort, Lucius on his other side. Bellatrix was crouched at Voldemort's feet, wand brandished and a feral look in her eye. There were other Death Eaters in the room, but Harry didn't pay much attention to them, they were for the others to take care of, he had a different task.

Harry watched Voldemort. He was saw that the evil bastard would go for his friends first, like he had gone for Cedric. In the split second between Voldemort recognising Harry and raising his wand to cast the spell, Harry felt Voldemort's intent. Before he had had time to process the information, Harry threw himself between Voldemort's Avada Kedavra and Hermione.

Harry's wand was in his hand and aimed at Voldemort instinctively.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled.

The jet of red light from Harry's wand hit the green from Voldemort's. This time Harry was prepared for the effect; the golden light forming a cage and the beads of light between the wands. Harry concentrated on sending all of his energy and magic through the connection towards Voldemort.

Voldemort's fingers clenched tight around his wand. He was obviously struggling to break to break the connection, but Harry had caused it and Harry was in charge, at least for as long as he could hold on.

The sounds of the battle outside of the golden light filtered through dimly.

Harry saw Lucius Malfoy raise his wands and open his mouth to cast a spell at him. Before Lucius could speak the words, a flash of amber light hit him in the stomach and he fell. Ron's shout of triumph and the impediment jinx hit home and Lucius stumbled.

Harry focussed on his task, still vaguely aware of the fight around him. The light beads reached Voldemort's wand and the grey ghostly manifestations of Voldemort's spells began to emerge from the end of the wand: screaming followed by Peter's silver hand, then Frank Bryce and Bertha Jorkins.

They nodded to Harry, recognising him, but staying silent. Harry felt his heart leap knowing that his mother would be next and this would be the last time he could see her at all. Lily's form appeared, followed by James's.

They smiled warmly at him and came to stand beside him.

More and more quickly figures and shapes came from the wand. People who said nothing, and shapes and sounds that Harry didn't understand. This is where it had ended last time and Harry concentrated on finishing the job.

Outside the circle Hermione and Ron were facing Bellatrix and Lucius and beginning to falter. Snape was sending jinxes and curses around the room, seemingly to cause confusion rather than to actively fight both Lucius and Bellatrix. One of his spells hit Hermione, throwing into a couch with such force that it tipped over backwards. Lucius aimed a curse at her, but it struck the couch instead.

Ron turned in spluttering rage on Snape, but Harry heard nothing of what he shouted. Sweat dripped down his face, his glasses began to fall down his nose and his hair was falling in his eyes. Fast and faster the grey forms appeared, one no longer coalescing before the next started to emerge, until there was just a blur of fog spreading through the cage.

"What do you expect this to achieve, boy?" Voldemort demanded.

He was probably trying to sound arrogant and nonchalant, but he sounded stressed and he was still clenching his hands around his wand. He was sweating.

"To finished it," Harry said, his own voice strained.

Harry heard a scream behind him. Then he could smell burning. A spell from Bellatrix caught him in the shoulder. It seemed Hermione had set Bellatrix's robes on fire. Harry smiled at that. Voldemort smirked.

With concerted effort Harry visualised the beads travelling along the beam of light, into Voldemort's wand and then into Voldemort himself. Harry's legs began to shake. He could feel every muscle quivering and his heart pounding. He hoped Voldemort was weakening as well.

The grey fog continued to roll out of Voldemort's wand, but now it began to resolve itself again. The figure that emerged was familiar to Harry, although it was paler than even the other forms. A tall young man in Hogwarts robes blinked and looked around him.

"Harry Potter!" he said. "How glad I am of a chance to face you again."

His eyes suddenly settled on Voldemort and he recoiled.

"This is what becomes of me?" he demanded. "Broken by a little boy? After all I've done?"

"It's been undone, Tom," Harry told him.

Tom did not respond. He did not have a chance to. Harry watched, horrified, as the ghostly form of Tom tried to back away from Voldemort even as he was dragged towards him. Tom's shape stretched and broke apart, as though hit by a strong wind, all of it sucked into Voldemort's shaking body.

Voldemort screamed. Harry felt that the vicious pain Voldemort was experiencing was a fair payment for the pain he had inflicted. He had no thought to spare for guilt or revenge. He just wanted it over. Voldemort fell to his knees with a satisfying thud.

There was a sudden burst of noise from outside: Death Eaters trying to get in and Slayers fighting to keep them out. Lucius was out cold on the floor, and Bellatrix was toying with Ron, who was barely able to return a curse. The door finally burst open, Harry glanced sideways just long enough to see that it Buffy and Neville who came through, not more Death Eaters. They were carrying something between them, but Harry pushed it out of his mind.

The fog continued boiling out of Voldemort's wand, but the beads were slowing. Harry concentrated on the last, pushing it with all the mental energy he could muster.

"It's ending now, isn't it?" James said.

"Yes," Harry told him.

"Good."

"We love you," Lily said, "we're very proud."

The last beads disappeared into Voldemort's wand and the last of his spells erupted from his wand. Then all that was left was Voldemort himself, his wand stilled trained at Harry. Ron was on the floor gasping, Hermione leaning over him looking anxious and muttering charms. Buffy could not be seen anywhere. Neville had his wand trained on Bellatrix, but had given up deciding on appropriate curses in favour of kicking her repeatedly.

There was a moment of stillness. Even Neville looked up.

Neville turned his wand on Snape, but Voldemort was first to speak. "Severus."

Snape was quick with his wand. There was a flash that blinded the whole room. When Harry could see again, both Neville and Ron had been petrified. Neville was standing in a growing pool of Bellatrix's blood. Ron's mouth was open and his eyes were still wide with pain. His frozen body trapped Hermione on her knees. Hermione turned to Snape in shock.

Harry tried to muster his thoughts enough to say something to Snape.

"Come, Potter, you cannot expect we would have allowed you allies in this fight. I thought you would appreciate witnesses to this, Dark Lord," Snape added.

"Thank you, Severus. You have a deft touch with such torture. More so than Bellatrix."

Voldemort sneered at Bellatrix's broken body.

Voldemort raised his wand almost lazily. Harry raised his wand to face him, but the movement was automatic. He could hardly believe that it would so soon be over, however it happened.

Voldemort cast, "Avada Kedavra," again.

Harry said nothing. He did nothing. He simply watched at time slowed down and the flash of green flew towards him. He couldn't hear either Snape or Hermione shouting at him. There was a sudden flash of movement and the curse never reached him.

Buffy lay at Harry's feet. The invisibility cloak was crumpled next to the door where she had been watching the battle, waiting for an opening to join in. Well, she had.

No one else moved, except Snape, who stepped behind the Dark Lord and drew a small silver knife from his robe. Before either Harry or Voldemort could cast another spell, Snape drove the knife between Voldemort's shoulder blades.

Voldemort fell. His body slumped and fell to the ground with a thud that echoed through the room sickeningly.

Snape's voice was vicious, but cold. "The blade was coated in venom from the Basilisk. Sytherin's Basilisk. I thought it fitting. You have done more damage to the reputation of our House than anyone in the last one thousand years."

Harry breathed in and out once. It was over. There was just one more thing to do.

Harry aimed his wand at Voldemort's body.

"Reducto!"

Harry watched Voldemort's body disintegrate into dust. The spectacle was accompanied by an awful high pitched keening noise, driving into everyone's nervous system. Snape flicked his wand at Ron and Neville to release them, and then rushed so quickly from Voldemort's remains to Buffy, that Harry automatically stepped back. Suddenly, sickeningly aware that yet another person had died standing between him and Voldemort.

Snape fell to his knees beside Buffy and grabbed her shoulders.

"Wake up, you silly bint!" he choked.

Harry wanted to reach out a hand and lay it on Snape's shoulder. Prudence, and the weirdness of the idea of comforting Snape, stayed his hand.

"I haven't got a scar, have I?"

Harry almost leapt out of his skin; the voice was Buffy's.

"It's not anywhere obvious, is it?" Buffy continued, when Snape didn't answer her. "I mean, can you imagine how much make-up it would take to cover something like that everyday. No offence, Harry," she added, looking up at him.

A quiet voice Harry recognised as his own said, "None taken."

"Help me up," Buffy demanded gripping Snape's arms. "Getting killed can really take it out of a girl."

Snape pulled her to her feet, but didn't let go of her.

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to do that again."

"No, you agreed. I'm the Slayer, it's my job. Besides, Giles was pretty sure it wouldn't kill me. Slayer meets spell, Slayer wins. And I've never stayed dead for long."

"Because every time you've died, someone has brought you back."

"Exactly! No harm, no foul," she shrugged.

Snape was not mollified. "You're pregnant with my child!"

This declaration was met with a spluttering cough from Ron. Harry turned around to make sure Ron was okay. He looked pretty beaten up, and Hermione was still fussing over him, but Ron's horrified face was watching Snape.

"How are you extremities? Can you wriggle your toes?" Snape demanded.

"What, in public, Severus?" Buffy asked, with a coy shrug.

Snape let out a snarl between his teeth. He was torn between wanting to shake her and wanting to carry her to the infirmary.

"Do you remembering what you promised me six months ago?"

"What, to love, honour and cherish?"

"No! Not throwing yourself at certain death!"

"Hey," Buffy protested. "Not 'certain.' Not dead, therefore not certain death."

Harry knelt down beside Ron. Hermione was looking rather grim, but that might just have been tiredness. Before Harry could ask how Ron was or call for help, the doors burst open Moody strode into the room, followed by Kingsley.

Moody's crazy eye was spinning furiously, checking all the corners of the room for possible insurgents. He turned his wand on the dust that had been Voldemort and spelled it into a jar he had pulled from his robes.

"No coming back out of thin air again, you bastard. Let's how you like being trapped."

"He really is dead, Alastor," Dumbledore said from the doorway.

Harry spun around to look at him, pleased that Dumbledore was still here. Dumbledore smiled warmly at him. Kingsley finished patching Ron up enough to move him, and with Hermione's help had gotten Ron standing. Together the three of them and Harry walked out of the room and out of the house. Dumbledore stepped aside for them to pass and then went to Neville, who was still standing, staring at Bellatrix's body.

The front garden of the house was in complete shambles. There were wizards and slayers and others lying and sitting around the garden. Mediwizards, Madam Pomfrey and a couple of witches who had come with the Slayers were stepping over and around people, checking for injuries. There were Aurors in the crowd as well, asking questions and taking notes.

Ron was immediately set upon by two mediwizards and his mother, who had appeared beside them.

"So," Hermione said.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Buffy and Professor Snape."

Harry nodded serenely. Of course that was the most notable part of the last few hours. Dumbledore came out of the house behind them.

"Ah, young love," he said. "I must be honest, I had not expected Severus to settle down with one woman so quickly. He has always enjoyed an active social life; I wasn't certain he would marry at all."

Ron started coughing again, sending the adults around him into a flurry of activity. Ron tried to wave them off.

"But, but—" Ron stuttered.

"Of course, a child changes things. Although I understand she did not fall pregnant until the honeymoon."

"But, but— But it's Snape!"

"Professor, please," Molly said. "Ron is obviously distressed."

"He will be all right," Dumbledore said. "He was hit badly during the fight, but Severus was able to cast a Stasis Charm on him to prevent further bleeding. He is merely suffering from adolescence."

Dumbledore rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Well done," he said. "We are all very proud of you, Harry."

"Ah, thanks, sir," Harry said, intently embarrassed. "There aren't any more prophecies are there?"

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "Not that I am aware of, Harry. Although, if you would like one, I'm sure we could make some arrangements."

"I'm sure I'll manage, sir."

"Good boy."

Buffy was next to come out of the house. She had one arm tucked through Snape's and it seemed that he wasn't going to let go of her anytime soon, either.

"Well done, Harry. You remembered the first rule, very good."

"You, too. Although I think you forgot that one."

"Hey, you didn't duck either."

She punched him lightly on the arm. Harry rubbed the bruise, but smiled at her teasing. Snape nodded gravely at Harry as he passed. Then he pulled Buffy away from the house.

Harry signed in relief and satisfaction. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were dead or captured, both Hermione and Ron were okay, Neville had exorcised his demons and he would never have to go back to the Dursleys' again. All Harry had to worry about now was Quidditch and Hermione's revision timetables. Life was looking up.


	12. Epilogue

Life in Sunnyhell.

By Niamh O'Leary and Rose Williams.

Disclaimers, etc, see part one.

Authors' Notes: At last, the final part!

**Epilogue:**

Diagon Alley was packed, even more so than usual for a fine summer's day. Flourish and Blotts' was packed for the launch and signing of _Back to the Living_, the third "semi-autobiographical" novel from Buffy Summers. There were giant photos of Buffy either side of the doors into the bookshop. Harry hadn't seen her in several months, because Buffy had been in America visiting Dawn, who was about to start post-grad studies at Harvard.

Plus Harry hadn't been to Diagon Alley in a while. Even more than three years after defeating Voldemort, it took a visit from such a high profile celebrity to ensure people didn't notice him in the crowd; approach to get an autograph, memento, sperm sample.

Harry bypassed the queue for the signing and made his way through the shelves to near the signing table. Buffy was there, chatting with the crowd and evading press questions as she signed books. Giles was standing at her shoulder, perhaps on guard, probably fantasising about which books were needed for the Watchers' Library. Harry had spent a lot time in the Library, as he was studying at the Watchers' Institute, and even he thought that it needed more books on Wizarding magic.

His studies were interesting. He envied Dawn how sure she was about what she was studying, but the Watchers' Institute also trained all the European slayers, which made for pleasant company. Hermione also turned purple anytime he was able to correct her on various bits of history or arcane knowledge. It was nice to be on the other end of the information flow. Hedwig was also enjoying the attentive care of the student body.

Buffy noticed Harry standing the lee of the bookshelves and nodded a greeting. Harry smiled back. Valeria followed Buffy's look and broke away from behind her mother's chair to launch herself at Harry. She was wearing a set of pink and purple robes that billowed as she ran. Harry was impressed that she didn't trip over the hem.

"Harryharryharry!"

"Hello, Valeria," Harry said, keeping one eye on the crowd while he bent to pick her up.

"Valeria Asphodel," she insisted.

"I know that. I'm sorry. How are you, Valeria Asphodel? And who gave you this pretty dress?"

Valeria looked down at her clothes, and traced the pattern with one finger while she thought about it. "Melissa. But I don't like pink," she said, kicking him in the shin for emphasis.

The pink interlocking flowers on her skirt suddenly turned blue. Harry grinned. The press noticed as well. The light of the flash bulbs suddenly focussed on Harry and Valeria.

Harry adjusted his grip on Valeria so he could shield her from the photographers as he turned to face them. Buffy stood quickly, ready to get into any fight that might break out. Harry had to remind himself that he couldn't just attack people who annoyed him. Not even reporters.

"Harry, Harry!" the crowd shouted. "Is this your daughter, Harry?"

Harry boggled. They thought that? But the questions continued. "Is this her first use of magic?" "Will you be sending her to Hogwarts?" "Valeria, Valeria, how did you feel when you used magic?" "Why didn't you like you robes?" "Why don't you spend more time with her father?"

"Hey!" Buffy shouted. "I've never answered any questions about her parentage, and I'd thank you stop speculating and get your cameras out of my daughter's face."

Buffy was trapped on the other side of the crowd from Harry and Valeria. She wasn't about to turn slayer on them, something Harry was disappointed about. It also meant Harry was left holding Valeria as she began to cry.

Rita Skeeter stepped out of the pack, which cleared a space for her, no one wanted to end up on the end of her acid green pen. She was cooing at Valeria.

"Come on, honey, you can tell us, about your relationship with Harry Potter. We're all friends here."

Her voice sounded ridiculous: saccharine and ingratiating. "You can tell Aunty Rita anything, can't you, sweetie?"

Valeria stopped sniffling. Harry checked that she was okay to find her sneering at Rita. It was…really quite disconcerting. Harry resisted the urge to chuckle at the look on Rita's face.

Harry could see Buffy weighing the decision of whether to leap over the reporters or leave Harry to handle things. Harry was impressed that she had lasted this long without knocking someone out. There was still no escaping the pack that had them pinned against the shelves, until Harry felt a presence beside him and looked up to see Snape.

"Potter," Snape said, in that way that still made Harry reach for his wand and a plausible explanation.

"You are having some trouble here, it seems."

Rita was waiting with bated breath for how this meeting would fall out. Harry's confrontations with Professor Snape were something of a legend. Although Rita had made a lot of it up out of second hand accounts, Harry and Snape's relationship was still somewhat volatile, to put it mildly. Harry was looking forward to what Snape would do with Rita. He was right: revenge was sweet.

Snape turned his attention to Valeria. "Does this… woman vex you, Valeria Asphodel?"

Valeria understood that tone of voice from Snape, because she nodded. She made Harry let her down, then imperiously straightened her skirts. She pointed at Rita. "I don't like her," she said.

Snape refocussed his attention on Rita, who took a quick step backwards.

"I had thought the press would have more important stories to pursue than harassing a three year old child. I understand that Ms Summers has made clear her wishes regarding her daughter's engagement in the press, and her feelings regarding undue distress to the child."

Rita drew herself together. "That Muggle?" she said derisively.

Snape went dangerously still. The crowd pulled back out of the line of fire, and Buffy pushed her way through them.

"And what led you to think," Snape continued, "that Ms Summers was both incapable of enforcing this matter herself, and incapable of having others enforce it on her behalf.

"Now, my human to toad transfiguration is as good as ever, although not really a patch on my brewing of untraceable poisons. You might be interested to know that I have developed two more since perfecting the brewing of Dearborn's thirty seven. I am writing an article for Potions Today."

"Are you really threatening me?"

"Of course not," Buffy said brightly, from Rita's shoulder. "Just thought you might interested to know that with everything we've seen and done and killed, well, squashing bugs just isn't really a problem for any of us."

"Severus," Rita began. She was trying to sound sweet again, but it was coming out more desperate. "I cannot a believe that a man of your reputation would allow anyone to speak for him, much less the mother of a half-breed child."

Harry actually drew his wand on Rita, not sure whether he needed a shielding charm for himself, or to stop Snape committing murder in front of several hundred witnesses. At the very least he would have to clear the bookstore before Snape got started, if only to reduce the collateral damages. Snape was glaring furiously at Rita, who was holding her ground. Buffy was poised to throw a punch.

Valeria, well below everyone's line of sight, marched over to Rita and kicked her in the shin with her little buttoned boots. Rita hissed in pain.

"You malicious, execrable little—" she bit off whatever curse she was going to let out. Even Rita could stop herself swearing at children in public.

"Don't talk about my mummy and papa like that!"

Harry could see the wheels turning in Rita's head, and in the heads of many of the reporters behind her. But no one said anything. Slowly, Rita took a step backwards, and then another, until she was part of the crowd again, and then the crowd began to disperse. The audience at the signing were whispering amongst themselves as they waited for Buffy to return to the table.

"The public are restless," Snape told her.

Buffy waved his concerns away and rest her hand on his arm. The other reached out to draw Valeria back to her side.

"Thank you, Harry," she said.

"You're welcome," Harry managed, as he slipped his wand back up his sleeve.

"We should stop meeting in fights."

"Yeah."

"We're going back to the signing now, Valeria," Buffy said, adding, "Asphodel," when Valeria glowered at her. "Or would you like papa to take you home?"

Valeria screwed her face up in concentrated. "Papa," she decided. "Bye-bye, mummy, bye-bye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Valeria Asphodel," Harry said solemnly.

Buffy bent to kiss her daughter on the cheek, then rose on tip toes to quickly peck Snape on the lips. Harry closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Snape was already leading Valeria out of the shop. Buffy was smirking at him. Behind her several of the reporters, who had no doubt had Snape as a potions master, looked stunned and slightly nauseous.

Buffy turned to Harry with a smile. "She's really something isn't she."

Harry chuckled in amusement. "Yes she is, she'll be terrifying once she perfects her sneer, no one will ever be safe again."


End file.
